Breakeven
by Punky Misfit
Summary: After she sees Booth taken hostage over a webcam, Brennan flies out to New Mexico to find him. Once he is recovered she begins to discover how much danger he was in, and that the threat is still after them.
1. Into Thin Air

The unforgiving sun had set hours ago, but the heat still lingered within the desert sand. Brennan could feel it through the thin soles of her shoes. Had she been thinking rationally she would have thought to better protect herself with appropriate footwear. She would have second guessed herself the minute she'd stepped out of the safety of her motel room, and departed for the vast dry sands that stretched on for miles and miles. She had with her a single flashlight to battle back against the dark night. The gun she'd bought years ago was strapped in a holster to her hip. _"You don't need a gun. I'm your gun," _Booth had assured her when he'd first learned of her purchase. _Yeah? Then where are you now? _She thought bitterly.

It'd been three days she'd lost contact with him. As of recent memory she couldn't remember a time in which she'd gone so long without speaking to him. The birth of their daughter reinforced the lives they'd already built with one another. For years they'd been partners, paired together through the FBI much to Brennan's chagrin. In those early days they'd struggled to get along. Over time the chilly reception had melted into a different relationship: a friendship. From there on out they'd danced on an intricate line between best friends, and something more. After much excuse making and side stepping around the solid boundaries they'd built, at last been they'd been driven into one another's arms following a great tragedy. Not too much time had passed before Brennan was announcing to him that she was pregnant with his child. Their separate lines had merged into one.

She couldn't believe that either one of them had ever been happier. Which was why his sudden departure had been so difficult for her to swallow. Given that Christine was only a month old Brennan was still on maternity leave. Booth's paternity time had run out, and he'd been forced to return to his job. He'd been back only a few days before he'd come home to pack a suitcase. "I'm getting sent out to Albuquerque."

Brennan had stood besides him in their bedroom, rocking Christine. "What? Why?"

"They've assigned me to a task force that's heading out to work with the Anti-terrorism unit. That's where they're based out of. I guess they got a line on some group that's posing a threat to the public."

"I understand. But why you? Why are they sending you?"

He'd zipped his duffel bag, and finally turned to face her. "Because they're ex-military. The bureau believes given my history in the Army that I'll have some insight."

"There's other agents who are former soldiers," she reminded him.

"Yeah. And some of them are going too." He'd pulled her close and kissed her tenderly. "Look Bones, I'll be out there at most a month. I'm just going to do a little consulting and head home. It's no big deal." He removed Christine from her arms to cradle her in his own embrace. He kissed her forehead while admitting, "I don't_ want_ to leave. Especially now. But I can't exactly argue with bureau."

Her dismay had still been evident. He'd tried one last pacifier. "Look, I'll have my laptop with me. We can talk over webcam every night, and see each other. I know it's not as good as me being here. But it'll do for a little while, right?"

It was better than nothing, she'd supposed. "You're just consulting? You won't be aiding in the group's apprehension?"

"No." He'd sworn. "I won't be anywhere near the action, if there is any. The last thing we want is to spook these guys."

She'd had little choice but to begrudgingly let him go. He'd kept his promise to her starting the very first night he'd arrived in New Mexico. The two had chatted through their computers for several hours before turning in for the night. On the second night she'd noticed immediately a change had taken place within him. Even over a crappy digital connection she was able to read the great amount of stress he was carrying throughout his body. His smiles weren't as easily available. He appeared exhausted, and she wondered if he had been telling her the truth from the start. Often he had a tendency to downplay the possible danger he was exposed to, figuring her worry to be needless. Usually he was right.

However, the third night had proven him to be very wrong. They'd been in the middle of another conversation when Brennan had heard a loud commotion take place off camera. Booth had been laying across his bed. His expression had changed into one she wasn't able to identify. Just as he'd sat up to check out the situation she'd heard the sound of a round discharging from a weapon. The screen had gone black, and never turned back on. That had been the last she'd heard from him.

She'd spent the remainder of that night and most of the following day frantically calling whomever she could get in touch with. No one had any answers for her as to what had become of her partner. Since she was only a forensic anthropologist who was contracted to the bureau, she was allowed no inside access. Contacts she had within the government hadn't given her much assistance, either. In desperation she'd packed up Christine and gone straight to the bureau. Specifically, to Assistant Director Hacker's office. Booth's boss' boss.

He too, was anything but helpful. "I'm sorry, Temperance. But it's classified."

"I'm his partner!" She'd protested.

"I'm sorry. There's nothing I can tell you."

"You must know something. I heard gunfire. He was in trouble, perhaps even abducted!"

Quietly, he'd confided, "the bureau doesn't make deals with terrorists."

Her heart rate surged. Suddenly she felt as though her head were locked in a vice grip. Her temples pulsated. "So you're saying if he's been abducted… it's likely he's already been killed?"

"I'm saying… he's not the only agent who's been reported missing. I'm telling you it's classified."

Promptly upon arriving home she'd lost her steely reserve. Gazing at Christine induced the tears she could no longer fight. "Your father is missing," she'd told her. "I have no idea where he is. I don't even know if he's alive."

Christine's eyes had shone bright. Though they shared the same hue as Brennan herself, in them she could see Booth mirroring back at her. "No," she'd decided on the spot. "This is unacceptable. I have to find him. No matter what the outcome. I have to find him for your sake." She sniffed back a few more tears. "And my own."

Max, her father, had thought she was crazy when she'd described to him her plans, but he'd still agreed to take care of Christine while she was gone. "You really think it's wise to take on a terrorist organization, Tempe?"

"No. I don't intend to. I just want to find Booth." And if she happened to find some of the other missing agents in the process, that was just icing on the cake.

She booked herself a plane ticket over the internet. She swiftly packed her bags, and was out the door before Max could attempt to try to change her mind. A life was a stake. That was all that mattered.

The plane was boarded without incident. During the flight she replayed the horrifying scene over again in her mind. Her thoughts stretched into the shadowed corners of her brain, and picked up where the webcam had left off before it had gone out. Her imagination ran wild. Images of bloodshed and carnage flashed before her eyes. With a shiver she sprung back into reality. _That's not what happened to him._

Since she had happened to know the name of the motel Booth had been staying in, she'd chosen to conduct her investigation from there. She hadn't had a problem in obtaining a room once she'd arrived. Shortly after checking in she'd taken herself on a tour of the dwelling and the grounds outside. Many of the rooms had been boarded off with yellow police tape. As she was alone in the hallway she paused outside one and stared longingly at the door. Had that been Booth's room? What had become of his luggage? Had the FBI seized it during their own inspection into his vanishing? Or had it just been left behind, forgotten?

She'd tried to question the hotel staff only to find herself stonewalled yet again. Anytime she approached anyone with a question she was turned away. No one wanted to help her, as no one wanted to be involved. Their silence angered her, and fueled her desire to root out the truth. Booth would be found. There would be no deterring her.

She went to bed that night frustrated, and miserable. Every passing moment in which she was away from Booth only increased her anxiety. Her life had become a waking nightmare that didn't end. Nor would it, until he was back in the security of her arms. Nothing else would suffice.

Throughout the midnight hours she tossed and turned until she decided trying to rest was worthless. Something out in the desert was calling out to her. She'd never believed in gut feelings. She certainly didn't believe in psychics, or clairvoyance. But the nagging feeling just wouldn't leave her mind alone. _Booth, _the wind whispered as it ruffled the drapes through her open window.

She'd sat up in bed. _What if Booth is out there? Is it a possibility? Do I dare ignore it just because I perceive it as being preposterous? _A heavy hearted sigh shook her shoulders. _I can't sleep anyway. What would it hurt to search for him?_

So here she was, out combing the desert on a hunch that she wasn't even sure she held any faith in. Her footsteps were carefully planted across the rough terrain. Cacti were strewn about intermittently. Coyotes howled their mournful songs. In the stillness she could hear mice and other rodents scurrying away from her. The atmosphere was simply too silent. If the earth had secrets, she wasn't telling.

She bumbled along until she became tripped up in a low lying tangle of dead branches. Forward she tipped into the sand, landing hard on her elbows and knocking oxygen out of her lungs. The flashlight flew out of her hand and skirted away from her. "Ow. Damn it." She muttered when she was able to draw in a fresh breath. She took her time climbing back up onto her feet. With sinking disappointment she realized the sun was just peeking up over the horizon. She had planned to be long gone before she could be caught in the first burning rays.

She swiped her flashlight up from off the ground. Before heading back towards her car she cast one last look around her. "Booth, if you're out here somewhere, I'll find you." She tossed her promise into the wind. "Just hold on."


	2. The Dirt Whispered

Author's Note: This chapter could be considered graphic. Be advised.

* * *

Brennan had never before found a day to be so long. The hours sluggishly passed from one into another. Since she'd spent a portion of the night sacrificing her sleep to run through the desert she attempted to lay down for a fulfilling nap. Her head had no more hit the pillow before images of Booth were paraded before her eyes. Her mind took her straight back to the night of the assumed abduction. She recalled the vague, almost expectant glint that had appeared in his eyes just as she'd heard the sound of a window breaking. Had he been anticipating the event? But that made no sense. He'd been completely unprepared for his abrupt visitors. She knew Booth was able to conceal his fright well. _Were you aware of the potential danger you were in? _She silently questioned him. _Did you lie to me about the real reason you were sent out here?_

"You really think he'd lie to you?" Her father asked when she called him later on that afternoon. Though her intention had been to check on Christine the conversation had quickly shifted into Booth's disappearance.

"I absolutely believe he would, to protect and spare my feelings." She snapped back. "He believes in this foolishness. As if I need coddling."

"Things are different now between you two," Max reminded her quietly.

She hated to agree with him. But he was right.

By the time the world fell asleep she was chomping at the bit. Tonight she dressed prepared for the elements. She slipped into a pair of hiking boots, and covered in her body in nothing but black attire. She felt as though she appeared more like a cat burglar than an investigator. Maybe perhaps that was because she wasn't. She was an anthropologist playing a role. She knew the lines. She only hoped she knew the proper body language.

Though she took the same road she had the night before she parked her car in a different spot along the strip. There was no need to draw attention to herself. Before departing out into the darkness she triple checked that she had her weapon, as well as fresh batteries in her flashlight. The desert was massive. Too lose one of the few guides she had would no doubt spell imminent death. That was a risk she wouldn't take.

For two hours she marched through sand and various other types of terrain. Unfortunately, there was nothing much to see besides animal tracks and scat, and dead vegetation. _I'm wasting my time with this nonsense, _she thought bitterly. But that same familiar tug had her continuing. _He's not out here, _she insisted. _Yes he is, _her conscious argued back.

The sight of headlights had her dropping to the ground. She turned off her own light and placed it in the sand next to her. With hawk eyes she watched a Jeep rumble on its own makeshift road. It skidded to a stop, and three men jumped out. They removed a ridiculously large bag from the back of the vehicle. Two of the men carried it while one stepped ahead of them. He chose a spot, and knelt there at the waist to brush sand away from the earth's floor. Soon he was pulling up a metal hatch from the ground. The three disappeared out of sight down inside.

Brennan had no idea what to think. What was in the bag? Were the men the suspects the FBI was after? Was their hideaway somehow related to the terrorist activities they were plotting? Or was she reading too much into the scene playing out before her? There was a possibility that whomever this trio was, they were unrelated to any of the action that had taken place miles and miles away. But the facts were smack dab in front of her face. Regardless of what was taking place, this behavior was not normal.

The sound of a gunshot echoing in the distance felt like an confirmation of her earlier train of thought. Her hand dropped down to her own gun, ready to snatch it at a moment's notice.

Thankfully, it wasn't needed. The men were just as quick to leave as they had been to arrive. They took off on spinning tires that spit gravel. To be safe she still waited several moments until the last sounds of their Jeep had dissipated into the distance. Then she surged forward at a breakneck speed. She had no trouble locating the disturbed sand, and not before long she was tugging the entrance door open for herself. A hole in the world with no more than a creaky, wooden ladder loomed up at her. She swung her body around and began the descent down into the darkness.

She was barely midway down the ladder before she was forced to stop. A mixture of horrid smells hung heavily in the air. The odor of unwashed bodies. Feces. Urine. Blood. As a forensic anthropologist she'd spent most of her adult years working around the deceased, and wasn't put off by the smells that accompanied them. Yet this had her choking for fresh air. It was only a hint as to the carnage that awaited her.

She coerced herself down the last few rungs. The floor of the bunker was lined with dirt. Just barely in the darkness could she make out peculiar shapes lined up against the walls. From her utility belt she withdrew her flashlight again. She held no fear in activating the light to take a look around. Even still, upon turning it on she aimed it at the ground for several terse seconds before lifting it. Her feet stayed rooted to the floor as she swept the beam over the perimeter. What fell within her sight had her inhaling sharply in shock. The even tempered beat of her heart sped forward with a kind of terror she rarely experienced.

Bodies upon bodies were stacked among the floor. All had suffered violent deaths, if the amount of blood they wore was any judge. Some had been cast aside for so long they'd begun to decay. Others were more fresh kills, having died within the last forty eight to seventy two hours had she had to make a rough estimate. Whether this was the terrorist group the FBI was hunting or simply another gang of sadists only one thing mattered. This was obviously their dumping ground. She had no idea if they had plans to return later in the evening. Therefore, she needed to move swiftly.

Again she was making herself continue on. Had she been given the choice she likely would have fled for help. Actually, she had every intention of doing so once she was finished exploring. But first, she needed to know just what exactly she was reporting. All the gritty details needed to be gathered and analyzed. She prided herself on having a methodical mind. It simply couldn't fail her now.

Every step she took worsened the stench. Her stomach churned, and bile rose to the back of her throat. Soon she had to pull the collar of her shirt up over her nose and mouth just to keep going. _This is unfathomable. What kind of animals would keep a collection of decaying remains? What is the purpose for all this?_

At the end of the cavernous tunnel lay the oversized sack she'd seen being carried down into the pit. A cold trickle of sweat ran down her spine. Little in life truly terrified her. But she didn't need her gut instinct to tell her that something afoul lurked inside the bag. And for that she felt a fear like no other. _You are a scientist. You are cold. You are calculated. Be a professional and treat this like you would any other homicide. _Trouble was, this wasn't a typical investigation.

She knelt down on one knee and set her flashlight down in the dirt besides her. Carefully she tugged on a corner of the sack. The fabric gave away to reveal that it wasn't a bag at all, but a fitted bed sheet. Eventually another body of an adult man was revealed to be underneath. _They brought him down here to hide him with the others. What cowards. _Her fingers probed the skin of his neck. To her surprise he was still warm. "They must have just killed you," she murmured.

She shined the light over his face. The pour soul had been beaten beyond recognition. His cheeks and eye sockets were badly swollen. Bruises, lacerations, and blood masked any defining features. There were cuts on his neck and arms, which she noticed were secured together behind his back. "What did they do to you? And why? What's the reason for all this?"

She rose and stepped over his body to see what he'd been bound with. A pair of steel handcuffs reflected in the light. His wrists wore purple bruises. He'd been struggling to free himself for a while before he met his hapless end. Next she examined his hands and fingernails, noting the amount of blood and grit lodged underneath each one. "You were a fighter."

She continued to inspect the skin on his forearms when her eyes caught glimpse of something familiar. The man's right arm had a tattoo just above his wrist. The opposite arm had a similar sign. She knew those marks like the back of her own hand. "God, no," she moaned. Back onto the heels of her feet she rocked, and with a trembling arm lifted the flashlight to take a look at man's shirt.

_Booth was pacing his motel room as he spoke with Brennan. He'd just arrived for the night after spending a long, hot day out in the field. This assignment was taking more out of him then he'd expected. Brennan had taken notice immediately and hadn't been shy to comment on it._

"_Yeah." He undid the buttons on his white dress shirt. His upper torso was exposed as he dropped the article of clothing down onto the bed. From his suitcase he fished out a plain, gray cotton tee shirt. "It's been kind of a long day, Bones. I just want to crawl into bed."_

She was staring at that same shirt now. "Booth." A tear fell before she could stop it. "No. No, you can't be." As tenderly as she could she tried to roll him from his side into her arms. For a second time she ran her fingers along the length of his neck. Beneath her touch she could feel a weakened, thready heartbeat. While keeping him in her grasp she laid a hand down upon his chest. He was barely breathing, but there was still sporadic activity. There was no denying that he was dying. But he hadn't crossed the bridge yet.

Untangling herself from him was difficult, but she deemed it as necessary. Proper authorities needed to be alerted. Getting cell service as deep as she was underground was impossible. "Please, Booth. Just hold on."

She flew as fast as lightning out of the dugout. As soon as she hit the outside air her cell phone had full service. She called whomever she could get in contact with, relaying all she knew before begging for help. Then she returned down into the depths to be with Booth.

In the brief time she'd left his breathing had worsened. Those occasional breaths were now greatly strained, and had a wet "sucking" sound to them. She fell down onto her knees to hover over him. Affectionately she stroked her fingers through his hair (since that seemed to be one the few areas that hadn't sustained any damage) before bringing them back down to his shirt. For a second time she noted the amount of blood stained across the front chest area. Though it made her sick to do so she shined her flashlight directly over the tainted portion. She now saw a small hole had been made in the material. Numbly she jerked the bottom hem of his shirt up to his collarbone. Plain as day on his chest was a wound caused by a bullet. That had been the shot she'd heard. A strangled curse escaped her lips. Her whole body launched forward onto her hands to apply pressure against his ravaged skin. "Help will be here soon. Please, Booth. Just don't give up." She pleaded through tears that streamed down her face. "Me and Christine. Fight for us."

What little strength he had was waning by the time officials arrived. His breathing had all but stopped when the wrath of God seized upon the desert. Flashing emergency lights lit up the sky for miles. Police, FBI, paramedics, and a scourge of others associated with various federal agencies Brennan wasn't aware of stormed the scene.

She was forced to standby and watch while paramedics did everything they could to stabilize Booth before transporting him to the nearest hospital. Their efforts were practically in vain. He was rapidly circling the drain. It near tore Brennan apart to see how lifeless he was, though she tried to find comfort in knowing that where ever he'd gone to, he was no longer in pain.

Presently they had no way to remove the handcuffs. Instead the chain holding them together was broken apart. Booth was laid down on his back on a stretcher. All the assistance in the world wasn't able to pull him back from the brink. Brennan followed behind the team leading him out to a waiting ambulance. She had absolutely no intention of letting him out of her sight.

"Ma'am?" One of the medics questioned her when she hopped up into the back of the bus with them.

"He's my mate." She tried to explain. Seeing his puzzled look, she elaborated. "We have a daughter together."

"Oh. Your boyfriend."

It sounded so childish. He was so much more to her than that. "Yes."

Her reasoning was accepted. As she sat down on a bench besides the stretcher the doors were slammed shut. "Lets go!"

Brennan heard nothing more. Her eyesight had turned into tunnel vision, and was focused solely on Booth. He'd been intubated, and an IV was trickling a life saving fluid filled with nutrients into his veins. However, he still appeared as though he were on death's doorstep. _Just survive this, _she mentally pleaded with him.

She refused to let him go.


	3. Aftershocks

Author's Note: Reference to "The Pain In The Heart."

* * *

Brennan's emotions had hit an all time high by the time the ambulance rolled into the bay of the nearest hospital. Every moment lost was one in which Booth was slipping away from her. His hand clenched tightly in hers had become cold. The methods the paramedics had used to assist his breathing had been no more than a band aid set over a bleeding artery. Nothing guaranteed his ability to continue to pull oxygen into his lungs. Just as nothing promised his survival. She had seen Booth pull through amazing circumstances. Her faith in him; in his capability to save himself had never been shaken. Until now.

In the emergency room he was whisked away from her. She had no choice but to banish herself to an uncomfortable, hard plastic chair in the hospital's waiting room. A shiver ran through her, and for the first time she realized a chill had crept into her body. An instant coffee maker sat on a counter just besides a television that played the day's news at a low volume. A stack of Styrofoam cups were located just beneath the counter top. She withdrew from her chosen area to pour herself a cup. The taste of it was bitter upon her first sip, but she hardly noticed. Not much would register in her conscious for the next few hours. There were plenty of tasks she was aware she should have been doing. But her mind couldn't let go of enough of the shock to perform them.

Booth had been all but dead in her arms. His attackers had practically removed his identity. Had it not been for known identifiers she never would have known that it had been him laying concealed in that bed sheet. The recalled image of his broken face made her sick to her stomach. What had been the purpose in shooting him? He'd been dying well enough on his own. _What did you do? _She silently asked of him. _What could have warranted such a violent attack on you? What did you get yourself into? _No. the real question was, what had _the bureau _gotten him into?

Hours upon hours passed. It appeared as if she were the only one waiting for news, as one by one others spoke with doctors and left. The midnight hours transitioned into early morning, then mid morning. Brennan was fighting herself just to stay awake. The anxiety was taking a harsh toll on her body. When at last she could take it no more she left the waiting room to seek out a nurse at the information desk nestled at the entrance of the emergency room. "Excuse me." She drew the woman's attention. "My…" She paused. What exactly did she call Booth? "Partner," didn't make him sound important enough. She'd been laughed at when she used the word "mate." "Boyfriend" didn't feel right, either. "The father of my child was brought in hours ago, and I have yet to receive any information about his condition."

The nurse raised an eyebrow at her terminology. "Name?"

"Seeley Booth."

Her fingers pounded across the keyboard of a computer. "No one by that name's been admitted to this hospital."

Brennan scoffed. "That's not true. I rode here with him in the ambulance. You're wrong. Check again. You must be spelling his name wrong."

"Seeley like a seal, right?"

"No." She spelled it out for her. "And Booth as in John Wilkes Booth." She winced. _He wouldn't be happy if he'd heard me say that._

Again the woman typed manically. "I'm sorry. There's no one here by that name."

"Then bring out someone for me to talk to. I know he is here. I demand a supervisor."

The nurse shrugged. She rose from her chair and left Brennan to stew in her anger and worry. How could he not have been listed as a patient? It wasn't as though he were in any shape to be discharged. If the worst had happened… if he'd passed away receiving medical care then there still should have been a record of him. None of it made sense. She felt as though she were in an alternate universe.

A doctor soon approached her with one of the paramedics that had been working on Booth in the ambulance in tow. The doctor kept his expression neutral. "You're the woman who rode in on the ambulance with Mr. Booth?"

"Yeah." The paramedic answered before Brennan could.

"Since you know he's here, all I can do for you is acknowledge that he is a patient. Beyond that I can't help you. His condition is classified."

Brennan wanted to scream in frustration. Classified. Why was everything classified? "Then how does it become unclassified? You won't be able to deter me from seeing him, so you are best off telling me the appropriate steps I need to take."

"Speak to the FBI. They're the ones who gave us the strict instructions." He shrugged back.

Brennan was outside the hospital, phone in her hand, within seconds. She dialed Hacker's office directly. "Why am I forbidden from seeing Booth? Why isn't he in the patient directory at the hospital?" She spit out in lieu of a greeting.

"Temperance, calm down. We've had to put agent Booth under an alias to protect him. There's a list of people who are-"

"Then why aren't I on it?"

"I'll call ahead now and have you added."

She hung up without expressing a word of gratitude. Her back turned on the hospital to stare out into the bustling world.

_Dark, soulful eyes looked up at her. Despite the fact that he was sitting in a bathtub in no more than his birthday suit and a ridiculous beer dispensing helmet, he showed no signs of embarrassment. Just annoyance. "Fine. I will. The next time that I die, I promise that I will tell you."_

"_I'll look forward to that."_

She exhaled deeply. That had been so long ago. Unfortunately however, this time there was nothing disingenuous about his attack. He wouldn't magically come around weeks later hidden in a military uniform. This time if he passed away she knew the news would be legitimate.

Another hour had to filter by before someone beckoned for her. An armed, burly FBI agent nodded to her when she approached. "You Dr. Brennan? Come with me." He never gave her the opportunity to answer. He stalked off so fast that she was forced to jog to keep up. "Where are we going, please?"

"You've been given clearance. I assumed you wanted to see agent Booth."

She did, but would have much rather preferred to speak with his doctor first to gather details about his injuries; to prepare for what she was to walk in on. However, she wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Given the runaround she'd had to go through she was just grateful for the opportunity. "Yes. That is a correct assumption."

He cracked a smile. She thought she heard him mutter under his breath, "they told me about you."

The two wound through vacant back hallways that she imagined were reserved for hospital staff. Just outside the door that led into the ICU he stopped. "You can go on in. There's a nurse waiting for you. She'll direct you the rest of the way."

Brennan let herself inside. Just on the other side of the door were two more armed agents. They nodded in acknowledgment as she passed. A small tremble shook her heart. Tight security. Classified lists. Aliases. The bureau's concern must have run deeper than she'd previously been led to think. What did that ultimately spell out for Booth?

This unit was unlike any of the other ICU floors Brennan had ever been on. Though each patient was separated by cubicles they had little privacy as they had no doors or entrances to speak of. Nurses sat nearby monitoring the various situations. One in particular gestured for her continue. "He's in number four. You can go on in."

"I'd like to speak with his doctor-"

"Dr. Rogers was called away to another emergency. Since you can't spend long with him it was recommended you come see him first."

"I can't stay with him?" Brennan repeated.

"Right now everything is very touch and go. The number of visitors he has and the amount of time in which they are permitted to stay with him is limited. His condition is very fragile."

"Then lets not waste any more time." She strode widely away from her. Her heart pounded in a combination of both anger and fear. Anger over what had wrongfully been done to him. Fear over the possibility of him succumbing to his injuries. Even in his weakest moments Booth was still the strongest man she'd ever known. The person everyone referred to now felt as though they were talking about someone else.

That stranger laid before her in bed when she entered the spoken cubicle. Though she could still smell the alcohol used on his skin to clean the blood, little had improved within his appearance. Had she not known whom he was she never could have believed the truth. His one eye had swollen completely shut. The other hadn't quite reached that level of severity, but was none the less intimidating. A few of the gashes he'd sustained to his cheeks had required stitches. Another laceration marked his bottom lip. By far though it was the bruises that Brennan had a hard time dealing with. They were practically disfiguring, and colored almost every inch of exposed skin, it seemed. His pain was obvious without him even being awake.

As she drew closer she could see his right hand had been fit into a cast, and left to rest on the bed next to him. He was still intubated, and life support was forcing a rhythm into his lungs that she didn't think he was capable of making on his own. He fought for every inhalation he made. A faint whistling sounded in his chest. _The bullet must have punctured one of his lungs. _She made a mental note to request a viewing of his x-rays.

She pulled up a chair and lowered herself down into it at his side. Her gaze flicked down his body as she laid a gentle hand down on his arm above his cast. The blanket and hospital gown he wore concealed most of his other unknown injuries. But she thought she could make out the rough outline of a cast down around each of his feet. _They didn't just beat him, they tortured him. _The thought sparked pools of burning tears in her eyes. What else had they done to him that she wasn't able to see?

"You are a warrior, Booth." She found herself whispering to him. "I need you to be that person now more than ever. I know you have it in you to pull through. I've seen that drive within you before. The hospital is limiting the amount of time I can spend with you. But I will be here as much as I am able." She had to sigh to steady her emotions. "I know you're weak. But please. Just keep fighting."

He didn't give any indication that he'd heard her. She wasn't sure if she expected him to. But her peace was said. All she could do now was offer him her comforting touch, and silent (but strong) support and strength. She only hoped it would be enough.

The battle had only just begun.


	4. Initial Reports

"_Well, well. What have we got here?"_

"_He won't talk to you. We can't get a word out of him."_

_Booth couldn't see straight. His head ached with the power of a thousand oceans. He was only just aware that his hands were tightly bound behind his back. His stomach burned with raw acid that in turn stirred up terrible bouts of nausea. Every so often he couldn't help but to turn his head and spit out blood tainted saliva._

_A being knelt down before him. Since his eyes refused to hold still for longer than a few seconds the man was no more than a black and brown blur, the darkness accentuating the earth toned colors of his clothing. A palm to the face snapped his head around. "Look alive."_

_Since doing so was impossible he shut his eyes all together. Around him he could hear conversation taking place without him being much more than a centerpiece._

"_He was in the same hotel as the other feds. When we hacked into the hotel's database he seemed like another one."_

"_All right. Did you grab his stuff?"_

"_Yeah. After I knocked him out Larry went back for his bag."_

_There was the sound of someone rummaging through his luggage. Then, a laugh of delight. "What have we got here?"_

_Though it killed him to do so he convinced his eyes to show him what he was missing. That same unidentifiable man was clutching his service weapon. In his other hand were Booth's credentials. More clothes were pushed aside until his handcuffs were uncovered. He scorned himself for being so careless. _

"_These will come in handy." The man declared gleefully. Booth's head rolled, and he found again he was relying on his hearing alone. _If you pass out you're as good as dead, _his conscious tried to remind him. _

_He sustained another hard impact to his skull, sending pain ricocheting throughout his cranium. "You are going to tell us everything you know," a voice growled menacingly._

* * *

Booth knew he had been tortured. He knew his body had been beaten and bruised, and left broken and bleeding. He knew it by the extraordinary amount of pain he was in; by the stiffness in his face and muscles due to swelling. Just as he knew while struggling for every immeasurable breath how fortunate he was to be alive.

He'd had yet to officially "wake up," though he'd had periodic bouts of brief consciousness. Often times he heard Brennan speaking to him. A few times her words had been strained, as though keeping her composure was a task she wasn't capable of. That too, clued him in as to how serious his situation was. Brennan worried. That much was true. Since having Christine her ability to display her emotions had improved. But rarely did he ever hear her on the verge of tears. He longed to give her some sort of sign to indicate to her that he comprehended her presence; that she wasn't as alone as she believed. Sadly his body refused to cooperate. Forcing open an eye involved expelling more strength than he currently had.

It wasn't until the tube was removed from his throat and he was permitted to breathe on his own that he felt ready to open up his eyes to the netherworld his wounds had deposited him into. A set of fateful words were all the motivation he needed to continue the process.

"I'm so sorry, Booth. I wish I could save you."

All his strength was utilized in just the effort of cracking his eye open a hair. In doing so a sudden tsunami of pain nearly ripped him back under. He managed to weakly choke out, "Bones."

Since her gaze had been focused on their linked hands her head snapped up at the sound of his voice. "Booth? Oh my God." Tears pooled in her eyes. "Booth." She rose to her feet to stand over him.

He tried to smile, but due to the swelling in his face it was a pathetic attempt. "What's wrong with me?" His voice had hardly any volume to it. It sounded just as scraped as he felt.

"Do you remember anything?"

"I was held captive."

She leaned in closer. One by one questions were fired off in a rapid procession. "Do you remember anything else? Do you remember why? Do you remember who abducted you? Their appearances? Do you remember being taken from your hotel room?"

The memories were lost to him. Instead of answering her he asked instead, "where are we?"

"New Mexico. The bureau sent you out here as a consultant in an antiterrorism case. Don't you remember?"

"No." He allowed his eye to lapse closed. "I remember… taking Christine to the park."

Brennan frowned. "That was the day before you left. Booth, that was last week."

He did his best to absorb the information being given to him. "How long… have I…"

"Five days. You sustained an impact to the head that left you with a hairline fracture to your skull. Your doctors believed you wouldn't wake up again. I knew they were wrong. I told them as much."

It seemed utterly impossible for him to have lost so much time. Days had slipped through his fingers like grains of sand. "What else?"

The tremble was back within her voice. "All your injuries? You were shot in the chest. As a result you had to undergo emergency surgery to remove the bullet, as well as repair the puncture it made into your left lung. Several of your ribs have been cracked, and you'd lost so much blood you required several transfusions."

No wonder his chest ached. Feebly he lifted his left arm to sweep his hand over his body, gesturing for her to continue on with the rest.

"You have a distal radius fracture. The metatarsals, cuboid, and lateral cuneiform bones were broken in your right foot. The talus bone was fractured in your left ankle." She had to avert her eyes away from him. "I was told it is believed that your captors were trying to disable you from getting away. You might have tried."

He gave her comment no acknowledgement. "Where's Christine?"

"Back at home with my father until we can return." She paused, though he could discern that something was still weighing heavily on her mind. "You really don't remember anything? Nothing?"

He let that question go unanswered as well. Rapidly was he tiring out. The small bit of interaction had left him spent. Besides, he couldn't see what the importance was. Judging by his injuries it was more than likely he'd rather forget the trauma he'd been through. Mutely his hand searched for the remote lying besides him in bed. A press of a button flooded his body with relief. That much deeper into the darkness did he sink.

Brennan had continued on despite his lack of responses. "They have you staying under an alias here. Armed agents have been posted outside your room ever since you were admitted. Booth, you were abducted for a reason. I realize it's only conjecture, but from the evidence I have seen and gathered, you were targeted. I need to know why."

The inquiries were falling upon deaf ears. Booth was almost asleep. He heard a soft sigh, and felt Brennan's fingers come to a rest on his forearm. "I need answers. And you're the only one who can tell me the truth."

* * *

Brennan watched in baffled sorrow as Booth faded away from her. She was relieved he'd woken at last, but downtrodden to know he knew nothing of his abduction. There were no answers to the questions she'd been tormenting herself with for days on end. Her only desire now was to take him home to allow him to heal under her loving care. Perhaps in the privacy of their home away from the unfamiliar atmosphere and scrutinizing eyes his mind would put together the missing puzzle pieces.

She was immersed in thought when the sound of footsteps caused her to glance upwards. A group of five or so agents stormed into the room. The ringleader needlessly flashed his badge at Brennan. "We heard he's awake."

"He was. He's resting now. I suppose you want me to leave." Such as the case was lately. When an army of agents arrived she was sheep herded out.

"He needs to be questioned in private."

Brennan assumed as much. She stood, gathering her bag and other various items she'd carted with her. "He doesn't remember anything. He doesn't even remember the trip here."

"We'll be the judges of that."

She didn't care for the ruthlessness in his voice. "He's in this situation because of what you allowed to be done to him. If he doesn't remember-"

"With all due respect, Dr. Brennan. Out of a dozen kidnapped agents he is the only survivor. All the others were killed. We need to know why his life was spared."

"It wasn't. Haven't you received the statement I gave?" During the second day in which Booth had been comatose she'd been dragged into the bureau's Albuquerque office only to be grilled all about his rescue. "He'd been shot, and was losing copious amounts of blood. He was minutes away from death. His doctor told me that had I been even five minutes later he never would have survived. He's too injured and too confused for your games. I won't allow-"

"You don't get a say in the matter. Now hurry along back to your hotel. We'll let you know when you can see him again."

Her face flushed with anger. The dismissal made her feel as though she were a precocious child. She would have loved to have told him off, but knew better. Arguing with other agents was as effective as speaking to a brick wall. Neither one listened to complaints. Or much of anything else.

She maintained a lady like confidence while showing herself out. Once she was out of the room she allowed her real colors to show. She slammed back through the hospital until she reached her rental car sitting in the parking lot. Half tempted she was to call Hacker and sock him with a piece of her mind. But again, her efforts would be in vain. No one was willing to hear her out. They didn't care about Booth as a man, only as an agent. _There's so much more to him than that._

As she'd had her phone turned off while visiting him she switched it back on now to check for any missed calls. A mere press of a button turned her screen aglow. There on the backdrop was a picture of Booth and Christine. The three had gone to the park one warm, sunny afternoon. Their daughter had been placed in a "baby" swing. Booth was standing behind her, his hands hugging her tiny stomach. He smiled like the proud father that he was. _Booth, _she thought sadly. _I wish there was something more I could do for you._

But she knew without his memory there was little she, or anyone else for that matter, could provide him. Her support would remain strong and true. But the ball was in his court now. There was nothing left to do but wait.


	5. Safe and Sound

Over the course of the following week little failed to change. Brennan's timed visits were still limited by the bureau. The agents in charge of Booth's "case" had made it abundantly clear that they had top priority over the man, going as far as tossing the phrase "national security risk" at her, as if to assure their status. Brennan certainly had authority in the world. But against them she hadn't a leg to stand on. When they arrived she was ordered out without reverence or remorse.

Booth found strength in every passing day. Soon enough he was moved from the ICU into a regular room. His memory however, had yet to return. As Brennan understood it, that was the reason for the agents' constant inquisition. He was adamant that he could recall absolutely nothing. Everything he knew had been wiped away like writing on a chalkboard. He couldn't describe the men who had destroyed their way into his hotel room. He couldn't even conjure up the incident. So far as he knew his day had ended at the park with his daughter weeks ago, and had began again lying broken in a hospital bed.

Or at least that was what he claimed. Another story was told in his most vulnerable moments. The painkillers he still relied on often led him into a deep sleep during his visits with Brennan. There his nightmares ran wild. He quivered and moaned; tensed his muscles and winced deeply. Brennan never woke him. She never let on that she suspected anything different than what he was telling the others. But often while watching over him she wondered the reason for his charade.

Getting him to speak was an issue all in itself. He rarely shared with her how he was feeling, or what he was thinking. If pushed for answers he'd provide, but otherwise he preferred to keep to himself. To Brennan it appeared as though he were always intent in thought. On a few occasions she caught him staring unflinchingly off into space. After a moment or so he'd snap back into reality. The sight of it frightened her. But brain damage hadn't been included in his list of injuries. Therefore, she was unsure of what to think.

After another day of silence she returned to her hotel room feeling irritated and disheartened. Booth just wasn't himself. Since their meeting had gone interrupted that night she'd attempted to kiss him goodbye when visiting hours had come to a close. He'd allowed her lips to touch his, but hadn't engaged. When she'd pulled away she saw nothing familiar in his eyes. They were unmoved; unfeeling. Blank. She'd muttered a pathetic, "goodnight" before scurrying out with tears in her eyes. Her questions just continued to dog pile. Booth's behavior had her realizing they weren't about to be answered anytime soon.

After a brief phone call home to check in with her father and Christine, she curled up in bed. All throughout the night she tossed and turned. Thoughts of her family swirled around her head in a continuous loop. She clamored for her daughter. Her heart ached for Booth. When at last she fell asleep her dreams were consumed by him. By candlelight they made love upstairs in the bedroom of their home. His warm touch filled her with longing. Their passion left her breathless, and trembling. Waking up alone was more disappointing than ever.

She shifted through her morning routine without much enthusiasm. She was making coffee in her room in what the hotel lamely claimed as a coffee pot when her cell phone rang. She was surprised to see a bureau extension attached to the number. "Brennan."

"Temperance? It's Andrew."

Inwardly she sighed. Hacker was low on her list of favorite people, needless to say. "What can I do for you?" She remained polite, but kept a pointed edge in her voice.

"I'll get straight to the point. Has agent Booth spoken to you at all about his abduction? Has he mentioned it in any way?"

Brennan frowned in disapproval. "No. No more than what he's told your men, I'm sure. What's this about, please?"

"Temperance… we're worried about him."

"I'm worried about him as well."

"No. That's not what I mean. There's been concern that he's been turned."

Numbly she sat down on top of her bed. "Turned?"

"Changed sides. He was held captive, and tortured. We don't know what happened to him, but obviously judging by his injuries it was pretty terrible."

"But wouldn't that speak to the contrary, then? They would have had less reason to harm him if he'd allowed himself to be brainwashed." She was quick to argue.

"We don't know. That's the problem. And since he's insisting that he can't remember what happened-"

She was incredulous. "Really? You really believe that he'd-"

"He's one of our best agents."

"Isn't that all the more reason to believe him? To give him the benefit of the doubt?" Silence. "Did he say something or do something that led your agents into believing he'd betray his country?"

"Not from what I understand. He just hasn't been very compliant."

She chuckled, though nothing was funny. "Andrew, two weeks ago he nearly died. He sustained an impact to his head that was hard enough to cause a fracture in his skull. He's confused, and he's in pain. I'm not the least bit shocked that he hasn't been "compliant." Perhaps you should tell your men to lay off of him for a while and let him heal." Her anger was burning bright, causing a fire in her belly. "I need to go." Without any salutation she hung up on him.

The entire drive to the hospital was spent raging. How could Hacker accuse Booth of such a thing? How could the bureau? Yes, Booth's behavior was… odd, to put it best. But all of Hacker's thoughts were nothing but conjecture. She knew how proud Booth was of his country. He'd risked his life to protect the freedoms others took for granted. No amount of torture in the world would have been capable of perverting his mind. He'd die before he'd ever turn his back on his fellow men.

She tried to put the conversation out of her mind as she entered his hospital room. For once no guard was standing alert outside. Freely she strolled in to find his bed was empty. The sheets had been folded, though not well. His dressing gown had been tossed on top. She journeyed further inside to find Booth completely dressed in jeans and a light weight tee shirt. He was single handedly fiddling with the fastener on his belt when he heard her enter. In seeing her he was taken aback; a deer caught in headlights.

"Booth?" She didn't feign her confusion. Cautiously she approached him. "What are you doing? Why are you dressed? I can't believe you were discharged."

"No," he agreed in a reluctant whisper. "I wasn't. I'm signing myself out against medical advice. My doctor's pretty pissed, but-" he shrugged carelessly.

"You shouldn't be doing that." Her warning was worthless, and she knew it. "Why didn't you call me? I would have been here sooner."

Something in his eyes changed. His posture straightened into one of defense. Most of the time she was terrible at reading non verbal cues. But in him she spotted the truth immediately. "You weren't going to tell me." She accused. "You had no intentions of calling me. Booth, what's going on?"

He wouldn't face her. His broken lower limbs were beginning to tremble with the strain of trying to support his body weight. A sweat had broken out across his brow. He was sheer white with pain.

She exhaled deeply. "You need a wheelchair. You're risking permanent injury-"

"I'm fine." He snapped. "Look Bones, you weren't supposed to be here yet."

"I don't understand what that has to do with this discussion. Did you plan on just disappearing? Never telling me where you went or when you'd be back? Did you intend on abandoning your daughter, and in turn me?" He knew well what that would have done to her. Her own parents had commit the same act when she'd been a child. It'd taken years for her to come to terms with it and move on.

His strength was rapidly depleting. He limped over to his bed and sat down. "Go home, Bones. Go back to D.C. and be with Christine. Right now just… forget about me."

Her mind screamed at her that something was foul. Booth wouldn't just abandon his family without a considerable reason. "How can you ask me to do that? Something's wrong with you. You won't talk to me. You haven't been the same since the abduction. I refuse to believe any of this is related to your head injury."

Again he was short on words. His eyes lingered on anything that wasn't her. She'd had enough of his avoidance. She took it upon herself to invade his personal space. He reared back as she stepped close enough for their noses to touch. The two faced one another. "Please, Booth. Just talk to me. What's going on?" She begged softly.

Brick by brick she was tearing down his wall. He wavered. "Right now its safer if we're apart."

"But why? Are you in trouble?" She closely regarded his expression. "You remember your abduction, don't you? Your ignorance with the bureau… it's all been a rouse."

"Bones, please. Just go back home. Christine doesn't need to lose both of her parents."

Fear coursed through her. "She doesn't need to lose one. Nor will she. I can't leave you, Booth. Especially now. Not after you make statements like that."

He exhaled a sigh she recognized as pure frustration. "They know I'm alive. And they're going to stop at nothing to kill me. I can't risk you being in the crossfire."

"And I won't risk never seeing you again." She laid her hand on top of his. "Christine will be fine with my father. She'll probably be safer with him than with us, honestly." With her father's criminal past Brennan knew he had various ways of hiding underground, and staying off the radar. "You're still gravely injured. You can barely walk. How long do you think you'll be able to last on your own?"

He gasped a chuckle. "I'll be fine. My main priority is keeping you safe."

"And that's all I want for you. I won't back down to you, Booth. Not this time. You're worth fighting for." Her hands came to rest upon his shoulders. She stared straight down into his eyes, and was pleased when at last her met her gaze. His mannerisms suggested he was ready to surrender to her. To toss her last card into the pile, she added, "I love you, Booth."

The smile was more than welcomed. "I love you too, Bones. I just don't want anything happening to you because of me. I can't risk it."

"It's my own choice made of my own free will." She reminded him. "You don't have to tell me about what happened to you. Not until you feel ready. But at least let me accompany you. Let me keep a peace of mind that I know you are safe. Give me that much." She pleaded.

His chin dropped down to his chest. After moments of tense silence he finally raised his head to again to her. "All right."

Pleased with herself, she kissed him whole heartedly. "What's your plan from here?"

"We get the hell out of dodge."


	6. Protection

"_This could all end, you know. Right now. All you have to do is say the word. The truth will literally set you free."_

_Booth hardly had the strength to hold his head up, let alone have a clear enough mind to focus on the words being spoken to him. With his hands bound behind his back he'd been forced to press his full body weight down onto his kneecaps in a kneeling position. A gun, presumably his own, was pressed into the center of his back. One false move and his captors had made it clear that they had absolutely no qualms about adding him to their collection of the dead. He'd already been taken on a grand tour of their "death bunker." _

"_So." A being got down on one knee besides him. His head was wrenched backwards, fully exposing his neck to the air. "You going to tell me what I want to know or not?"_

_Booth clamped his jaw shut. Sweat trickled down his forehead._

"_All right. You asked for it."_

* * *

"You're doing what? Tempe, are you crazy? Neither Booth nor you have the skills to go on the run."

Brennan bristled at the harsh criticism by her father. Her cell phone was pressed tightly to her ear, cradled by her shoulder as she packed up her things. Promptly after leaving the hospital they'd stopped by her hotel room to gather her luggage. Booth had taken one look at the building and opted to wait in the car. She could only imagine how he felt, returning to the scene of the crime. The boarded up window shuttering his room was like a sharp slap in the face. She didn't press for his company.

"He was a soldier, dad. He's been to countries you've never heard of, and kept himself safe while doing so. Besides which, he's a sniper. I trust him."

"But neither one of you know what you're doing." Max sighed resignedly. "Fine. Don't worry about the munchkin. We'll get out and get somewhere safe. It's you I worry about. You need to get some kind of new car, and ditch yours somewhere. Get a disposable phone-"

"They're not interested in me. Just Booth. I doubt they even know of my existence, let alone our lives together."

Max paused for a brief moment. "Why doesn't he let the FBI protect the two of you?"

It was her turn to exhale deeply. "I can't explain it, but for some reason he has been misleading the FBI. He remembers certain details surrounding his abduction, but to his superiors he keeps insisting he can't recall anything. He won't tell me the cause for his behavior." She chose to keep her conversation with Hacker to herself. Booth being "turned" was inexplicable. There was no reason to bring it up.

"Fine. Just be careful. That's all I'm saying. There's no such thing as too many precautions."

His advice was going in one ear and out the other. Having finished her task, she zipped her bag. "I'll call you in a few days."

Booth had slumped in the passenger seat of her car when she returned. She threw her bag into the trunk before sliding into the driver's seat next to him. Before speaking she studied his entire body with a critical eye. As time had progressed his body had begun repairing the damage. Enough of the swelling had decreased within his features that he was somewhat recognizable again. His left eye had healed to the point in which it was able to open entirely; the opposite one remained stubbornly heavy lidded. The lacerations inflicted upon his tender skin had begun to knit back together. He was far from resembling the person that he'd been. But the ball had begun rolling.

"Are you ready to leave?"

He gave a brief, grim nod.

"Where are we headed?"

He expelled a breath in thought. "Go north."

"Why north? Wouldn't it be more logical to head-"

She was cut off by the motion of him dropping his head into his hands. She saw his muscles turn to stone. "Please, Bones. Just go."

There was a failure to act. His pain was greater than he was able to successfully obscure from her. His breathing had spiked into a quickened pace. "Booth, did the hospital give you any medications before they discharged you?"

"No."

She was appalled. "You're still in recovery. At the very least you need a painkiller, an antibiotic, and some sort of anti-inflammatory or steroid to keep the swelling down. No brain damage was caused by the impact you sustained but it's still an injury, and your brain could still swell from the slightest newly introduced trauma which could create intracranial pressure-"

"I refused 'em, okay?"

Now in addition to being aghast, she was baffled. "But… why?"

He graced her with no answer. She shook her head in disappointment. "I wish you'd talk to me. Your thought process is so distorted that I cannot make sense of it. I know something traumatic happened to you. But you've had incidents before and never behaved like this. Perhaps we need to schedule you for some more imaging scans of your brain."

"It's not my brain. Can we just get moving?"

No longer could she contain her anger. Roughly she shoved the gear into drive. The car surged forward. "I can't help you if you don't let me."

"I don't need help." He winced his eyes shut. His head flopped backwards to come to lay on the seat's headrest.

"Yes," she insisted. "You do. More than I think you realize. You had no business signing yourself out. You were safe in the hospital, and protected. You should have stayed." She snuck a peek at him. Her tone softened. "You really should have stayed."

They angled down the northern leading roads in a continued mutual silence. Any time Brennan happened to glance in Booth's direction his eyes were shut, giving the appearance that he was sound asleep. She doubted whether that was the case. The slightest bump in the road had him hissing out a breath between clenched teeth. The rate of his respirations would accelerate. Not before long he'd settle again. But his façade was more than obvious.

Brennan remained at a loss. She'd succeeded at persuading him to allow her to join him on his reckless journey. But beyond that he repeatedly shut her out. He was purposefully soaring head first into the abyss, and for the life of her she couldn't figure out why. What did he hope to accomplish? They couldn't remain on the run forever. Eventually they'd have to return to their home; their family; their lives. Her heart already ached at being away from their daughter for such a long period of time. Something had to give. It was necessary he tell her his plans. Perhaps when they stopped for the night she'd be able to coax more conversation out of him.

After a few hours the low fuel light on the dashboard lit. She stopped at the next gas station she found. Crawling out of the car was almost painful. She'd been cooped up for so long that her legs were weak. She was forced to stretch out before returning to the pump to fill up. While the tank was being filled she couldn't help to notice that Booth had failed to climb out as well. She crept to the passenger side window and stole a glimpse inside. He was legitimately asleep. Despite her wish for him to get out and get some fresh air she didn't want to disturb him. There would be other rest stops.

They were only a little ways away from the station when a peculiar noise stirred Brennan's attention. The din was unlike anything she'd ever heard before. It took Booth beginning to shudder besides her for it occur to her that the sound had come from him. He was trapped deep in the throes of a nightmare. "No," he muttered in a strong voice. His head twisted from side to side. His good hand formed into a fist. He began hyperventilating shallow, dizzying breaths accompanied by a moan. She couldn't prevent herself from feeling frightened. And while normally she chose to let his dreams play out without intervention, this time she felt as though she had no choice but to step in. The car was edged over to the side of the road where it came to a stop. "Booth!" She put a hand on his shoulder. "Wake up! It's just a dream."

The spell wouldn't break. He began to utter words in a language Brennan wasn't familiar with, despite the fact that she was well versed in many languages. He grimaced just as he threw a punch straight into the glove box. The action brought him back to reality. His good eye flipped open (with the other one straining to do the same). Frantically he surveyed his environment before collapsing back into his seat with a defeated sigh.

"Booth?"

For only a moment did he look at her with the warm tenderness that she'd become accustomed to. It vanished almost immediately back into the blank, hardened glare he'd woken up with days ago. "Yeah." Sweat coated his forehead, and he was as pale as a ghost.

"I really think we should find a hotel and stop for the night. You need to rest." They both did.

He was too weak to fight with her. Instead she was given a labored nod before his eyes shut again. It didn't take a genius to comprehend that the episode had significantly increased the amount of pain he was feeling. Someway, somehow, she had to see to it that he obtained some sort of pain numbing medication. He was strong, yes. But he couldn't go in such agony. She couldn't allow him to.

The next hotel they came across became their destination of choice. Brennan felt relieved to pull into the parking lot and stop. Her mind was still awash in a sea of fear and confusion. What language had Booth been speaking? What had he been saying? She'd been too occupied by her own panic to remember any of the incantations he'd spoken. Furthermore, he'd burst forth from his dream with clear indication as to who she was, and what she meant to him. What had reverted him back into his alter ego: the cold stranger?

She started to get out of the car to book them a room when he stopped her. "I gotta do it," he slurred.

The notion was preposterous. "Why?"

"Gotta use my alias."

"You can barely walk. Besides, your captors don't know me."

"They stole my badge. My ID." His eye fluttered closed. "If they dig they can find out that we are partners."

"But that means nothing. We aren't married. It doesn't mean-"

"They might find out about Christine. We're both on her birth certificate." He reminded her. "This is why I didn't want you coming with me. Should've… should've gone home. Stayed with your dad. He'd… protect you both." He was at war with himself to stay awake.

"And what about you? In your condition you're vulnerable. Look, Booth. Tonight we'll stay here under my name. Tomorrow you can call the bureau and arrange to have an alias attained for me as well. But for now, this is the only logical plan. Stay here. I'll be right back."

His quiet laughter as she exited the car was disturbing. Just what was going on with him?

Within a half an hour they were settled into a room on the first floor, giving Booth the reprieve of having to trek up stairs on broken limbs. He settled himself down underneath the sheets of their bed and shut his eyes. Brennan climbed in besides him. She brought him into her arms and was pleasantly surprised when he didn't snub her. His head came to rest on her shoulder, and his casted arm snaked around her waist. In shutting her eyes she could almost pretend that nothing had been altered between them; that life wasn't complicating what should have been the happiest time of their lives following the birth of their daughter. She never should have permitted him to leave. But then again, she couldn't have stopped him, either.

Mere minutes passed before she heard his breathing slow. His body loosened. He was sound asleep. She kissed his temple, and contented herself in observing him. "I need answers from you," she whispered. "I need to know of the danger you're in. I know you believe its me who needs protecting, but it's you. I can't do that unless I know what you've been through. I can read your body. Your physical ailments tell me their own story. But I can't read your mind."

Her thoughts having been spoken out loud, she settled in for the night. Her stomach growled with hunger, and she was craving a shower. But the man laying in her arms meant more to her than that. Both those problems could be paid attention to in the morning.

Her eyes closed. Soon she too, was away in slumber land.

* * *

Brennan woke in the morning to tousled sheets and an empty bed. The space where Booth had been had been vacated. She sat up in alarm. The room appeared untouched. Nothing was out of place. Her heart skipped a beat. "He didn't. He couldn't have."

She tore out of bed to check the bathroom on a hope that he was in there. Unfortunately, that too, was empty.

He had. Booth was gone.


	7. Hero Of War

Brennan stood in the middle of the room in disbelief. She supposed she shouldn't have been so shocked, but she still felt as though she'd been blindsided. Her mind furiously tried to come up with a way to adapt to the new change of events. Where was he? Where had he gone? So far as she knew he wasn't any more familiar with the terrain than she was. Then there was to consider, how long ago had he left?

Another thought suddenly popped into her head that stole her breath away. Had he left with her car? She rushed to the front door and opened it. Her eyes scanned the parking lot. The vehicle still sat in the space she'd left it in the night before. Her heart settled, and her hopes sank simultaneously. If he had stolen her car she could have easily found him by reporting it. She shut the door and leaned back against the cold hardwood. If he'd set out on foot than she couldn't believe he had been able to cover much ground. Particularly considering his condition. Neither his foot nor his ankle had mended enough to support him for all that long. Just as she couldn't imagine that his lungs or ribs had healed enough to give him the type of oxygen capacity he required for long term stamina. There was still a chance she could hunt him down.

Swiftly she dressed for the elements in a sweatshirt, jeans, and a pair of boots. Just as she was beginning to step foot outside the heavens opened. A hard, pelting rain sank down over the land. She exhaled roughly in frustration. As if finding him wasn't going to be hard enough. The odds were stacking up against her. Still, she refused to be deterred. It was nothing more than a setback.

She prepared herself accordingly. _I'm coming, _she thought with steely determination. _I refuse to let you get away from me again._

* * *

Booth couldn't move. He was reclined back against a tree; his legs awkwardly positioned out in front of him with his broken ankle angled off to one side. Pieces of broken cast warped the shape of the leg of his jeans. He'd underestimated his body's ability to navigate the woody terrain. His light weight cotton shirt was soaked to the bone, and he cursed himself for forgetting to bring some type of coat or slicker. Not that he'd had easy access to them, since he ultimately had no other clothes besides what he was wearing. Nor could he see in the dark early hours of the morning when he'd left. Still he was confident he could have fashioned something.

All had been going well. So long as he took slow and premeditated steps his body had been able to support him. Downhill. Uphill. Just so long as he nursed himself he didn't encounter a single problem. Then life decided to throw him a curveball. The darkness had blinded him to an oversized rock jutting up from the ground. He'd tripped, his broken ankle twisting out from beneath him. He sunk to the ground, landing flat on his face. His chest and ribs had begun burning with a searing pain that brought tears to his eyes. He had an excellent pain tolerance. Always had, always would. But at last he'd hit his limit.

Covered in mud, he'd managed to brace himself against a tree where he'd been ever since. He heaved quick, shuddering breaths. His heart was racing like a jack rabbit. He was freezing, and he wasn't entirely sure it was from the cold. Indeed, he was in deep trouble. And no one was around to help. He'd turned his back on his family; on the woman he loved. There'd been no choice. She couldn't be involved in the chaos he'd fallen into; into the danger. If it was his last noble act he had to protect her. Since he knew she didn't see it the same way, he accepted that his only option had been to leave while she'd been sleeping. He'd felt immense guilt, but carried through with his plans. Someday she'd understand. He just had a feeling he wouldn't be around when she did.

As his respirations continued to increase he began to feel lightheaded. His vision wavered before him. The environment swooped and swirled in an intricate dance. At last he let his head tip backwards onto his shoulders and winced his eye shut. His foes wouldn't have a chance to murder him. With the way he was feeling he didn't doubt that that tree was due to become his headstone. _No one's gonna be able to find me. Bones won't ever know what happened to me._

Those were his last thoughts as his trembling increased, and a fresh stab of pain sent him into a black oblivion.

* * *

_Anytime Booth coughed blood expelled from his mouth. Hours ago he'd been dropped into a room of isolation after a brutal beating. He wasn't about to give them what they wanted. No amount of pressure or torture would be enough to pull the information they so violently sought out of him. He had yet to speak a word, and he planned to keep it that way. If his giving his life kept others safe then he was willing to make the sacrifice. His thoughts trailing along those lines, he immediately thought of Brennan and Christine. His heart broke over the thought of his daughter growing up without him. Parker, as well. When Hacker had given him the assignment he knew what he'd been getting himself into. But he hadn't fully grasped the repercussions._

_Time sluggishly moved along. Before anyone returned for him days seemed to pass, though in reality it was no more than a few hours. He could only just barely see two men stroll inside. They yanked him up onto his feet, spinning him around and slamming him head first into a wall of his cell. He tried to struggle but logically knew his efforts were worthless. His captors had been withholding food and water from him. That combined with the repeated beatings had significantly weakened him._

_Cold steel was snapped securely around his wrists. Behind him he heard a voice order, "drop him to the ground." The command was no more given before his legs were kicked out from underneath him. He collapsed on the floor without any way to shield himself._

"_I want him on his back."_

_Again, he was maneuvered as told. The man who had been badgering him since he'd arrived stood over him with a metal baseball bat. He extended it forward, pressing it against his neck and forcing his chin to tilt upwards. He sneered the smile of a jackal. "You ready to give yet?"_

_Defiantly Booth jerked his chin away and shoved at the bat with his cheek. _You won't break me.

"_All right. If that's the way it has to be." The bat was raised over his head. Booth squinted his eyes closed._

* * *

Booth didn't know what to think when he woke encompassed in a sea of white, fluffy cotton. A soft pillowy fabric was caressing the bare skin on his back. What really startled him however, was realizing that the pain he'd been in for long had been dialed down. Oh, he still felt pain. Plenty of it. But it wasn't nearly as debilitating as it had been for weeks.

"You should be ashamed of yourself, Booth."

The voice dragged his attention back to the present. Though she was rather blurry he could see Brennan through his good eye at the foot of his bed, her hands planted firmly on her hips. Distinguishing her features was a challenge, but he had a feeling he knew the emotion expressed on her face even without being able to properly see her. "Where am I?" He whispered in a damaged voice.

"You're back in our hotel room. I found you amidst the woods approximately four miles from here. I am baffled as to how you got that far on your own."

"How'd you find me?"

"I used the cell phone ping method."

On feeble biceps did he thrust himself up into a sitting position. "You carried me back here all by yourself?" It went without saying that he had a good amount of healthy body weight over her smaller figure.

"Not exactly. You were covered in mud, drenched, and delirious when I found you. You were able to stumble back with my assistance. But your adventure out into the woods has done further damage to your ankle. Your cast broke. We really need to take you to the hospital to have it set for a second time."

He had no intentions of doing such and they both knew it. Booth's mind was still cloaked in confusion. "I passed out then, when we got back?"

"No. After cleaning you and removing your clothes I gave you a sleeping pill to keep you from disappearing again while I went out to run some errands. I told you it was aspirin. You didn't resist."

His brow lowered. "So you drugged me?"

"I did what I felt was necessary. While you were out I made a few phone calls." She moved away from him towards the dresser. Only just could he make out the outline of three pill bottles. She tapped each one as she spoke. "Vicodin for your pain. An antibiotic, and a steroid to reduce swelling. A friend of mine who is a doctor prescribed them for you. They are under my name, so you are still safe."

"You drugged me," he repeated steadily.

"And you abandoned me. I'd put us as about even."

He sighed. "Bones, you don't get it."

"Perhaps I would if you would be honest with me; if you'd talk to me. I can't make sense of you. This isn't at all typical behavior for you. I believe now you were looking to leave me behind as soon as you could. You only agreed to allow me to come along in the hospital to pacify me, and I cannot tell you how much that angers me. We should be together, Booth. Separating will only-"

"It's for your own good." He interrupted her.

"Why? Because you say so? You don't know what's best for me."

"I know you need protecting."

"From what?"

"From me!"

They squared off. In a calmer, patient voice Brennan tried to reach him. "I just want the truth from you. What is it that has you so afraid? You've never been so stand offish to me. You've never behaved in this manner at all."

"I told you, Bones. You need to forget about me-"

"And we both know that isn't going to happen. So talk to me. Tell me what's going so that we may figure out a plan together."

He crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes leveled into the blank, angered glare that induced goosebumps on her flesh. She grit her teeth. "Andrew thinks you've been turned, that you've come to sympathize with your abductors."

Heartily, he laughed. "You really think I'd do that?"

"I don't know what to think anymore. I know you sustained an injury to your skull. I suppose it could have altered your perception of reality. There's that syndrome, in which victims begin to identify with their captors."

"I don't have Stockholm Syndrome."

"Then what is it? I know you know remember all that happened. You have nightmares. You talk in your sleep. You… you utter sentences in a different language. I can appreciate and understand that there must be some sort of motive behind your actions. But I need more from you. I need to know."

He didn't flinch. Nothing said in her speech had changed his mind. Whatever he was concealing was locked deep inside of him. For now, he would reveal nothing. And knowing how stubborn he was, Brennan worried it was only a matter of time before she lost him for good. Rage and sorrow stole her heart. Aggravated tears welded in her eyes. She moved towards the door. "You've lied to the FBI. You've lied to me. But now, I'm wondering if you are also lying to yourself." With those parting words she exited the room, slamming the door as hard as she could behind her. She removed her keys from her pocket and retreated to the safety of her car. There she permitted herself to shed a few tears.

She couldn't let Booth slip through her fingers again. She had a feeling now more than ever that if he got away from her, it'd be the last she ever saw of him. An event had taken place that had touched him in a way that nothing else had. It'd created a friction between them.

Come hell or high water, she'd find out just what that was. His life was depending on it.


	8. On The Road Again

Not much more was exchanged between the two of them. Brennan kept herself in the secluded isolation of her car for several hours. All while she did so her eyesight remained trained on the door of their hotel room. She wouldn't think Booth would be foolish enough to try anything again. Especially when his ankle was swollen to the size of a grapefruit, and his skin over and surrounding the swelling was as dark as a grape. But no longer did she feel she was able to predict his behavior successfully. Whatever had happened during his time in captivity had altered the person she'd once known like the back of her hand. The venom had seeped into a place within him that she'd believed had been invincible. And until he divvied up more information there was no way to suck the poison from his wounds.

Only after her mind returned to a place of clarity did she dare to rejoin him. During the time in which she'd been gone she found evidence that he'd been active, despite finding him sound asleep in their bed. Her things had been ruffled through, and she noticed he discovered the change of clothes she'd purchased for him while she'd been out for his prescriptions. A steak knife sat on the dresser, and pieces of what had remained of his cast were strewn all over the floor. Obviously in her absence he'd busied himself by freeing his ankle from its constraint. She wished he hadn't, but it was logical that he had. The broken hardened wrap was useless to him in his condition. Absolutely she had to work on convincing him to revisit the hospital.

Besides the knife the three prescription bottles she'd pointed out to him earlier had been moved around. The antibiotic and the steroid didn't look touched. But the cap was loosened on the painkiller. She quietly peeked inside to see for herself that a few of the pills were missing. Finally he was beginning to seek out relief for himself. It wasn't all she'd wished for, but it was a start. She let herself entertain the thought that in time she'd persuade him to take the other medications, as well. Taking care of himself needed to be a top priority.

Gingerly she sat herself down on the edge of the bed. For a while she contented herself with just watching him sleep. It appeared that he'd collapsed straight onto the bed, as he laid on top of the covers instead of underneath them. One arm was extended across the space besides him. The other was folded across his chest, cradling himself. Or guarding his injuries. Upon cleaning him off after finding him in the woods she'd noticed new splashes of blood had tainted the bandage covering his stitched bullet wound. Given the choice she would have preferred to clean the area and apply a fresh dressing. But she didn't have the supplies, and even if she did she doubted Booth would be accommodating. It was just another sign of the stranger who'd taken up residence within him.

She bowed her head. _I just wish I knew what was going through your mind._

As though it were an unconscious response to her verbally unasked question, in subtle ways did Booth come to life. His chest muscles abruptly tightened. His soft breaths transitioned into a strained, repeated hissing sound which was the first indicator to pull in her attention. He winced, and tilted his head back into his pillow. Like a mantra the peculiar foreign words he'd said before sputtered from his lips.

Brennan launched herself off the bed. She dug through the top drawer of the hotel dresser until she located a theme note pad of paper. Next she retrieved a pen from her purse before resuming her place besides him. His tone was so quiet she was required to place her ear almost directly next to his lips, as though he were whispering a secret to her. Her plan was to phonetically spell out the phrases he spoke, and later scour the internet to see what details she could dig up. Yet his rate of speech was so fast she was unable to jot down more than just a sentence before he exhaled a harsh breath and his eye cracked open.

A deep breath reserved in her lungs. How would she react to her? She gazed at him to find his gaze completely void. There was no sense of familiarity, but there was also no glint of the stranger, either. He held her stare for a mere moment before he collapsed into himself again. The hand that had been coddling his chest searched the bed until it happened across her fingers. Tightly he latched onto them.

A warmth spread through her. "It was just a dream, Booth." She cooed to him soothingly. "Try to get some more rest."

As if he needed to be told. "Bones," he slurred just before drifting off again. "I'm sorry."

She accepted his apology while also wondering if it was another trick. She hated to suspect him of such a thing. But all bets were off the table. There was no trusting him until the truth was revealed. "I know," she muttered lamely. "Just sleep."

Once he was under she was on the move. She removed her laptop from where she'd buried it at the bottom of her suitcase. With nowhere to put it she set it down atop of their dresser. The power supply was plugged into the wall, and she booted up the device. Within seconds she was connected to the internet. The note pad was set down besides her, and she got to work at once.

A full hour and a half passed by without producing any real results. She was just about to give up when a website linked her onto another of rare language translations. Her stomach was in knots while her fingers moved across the keyboard to type in the letters as best as she understood them within the search box. She stabbed at the "return" button when she finished much harder than necessary. Could this be it? Would she at last be receiving some answers?

Results were returned after a few seconds. She first noticed that the language indicated was one of ancient times; one never used in today's modern society. "That's why I didn't recognize it," she told herself. She scrolled down the page to continue reading.

Beneath her sentence was a rough translation. She gasped when reading it. Her heart forgot how to beat.

_I am a slave. My crimes are punishable by death._

* * *

"_Say it, damn it!"_

_Booth was being held down on the floor against his will. A knee was pressing down on his pharynx, applying just enough pressure to remind him who was in charge; how easily his throat could be crushed. A death by suffocation had been promised to him. That had been their new method of intimidating him into getting what they wanted. It wasn't working. _

_He was just barely able to breathe, never mind speak. Though his sight was diminished he kept a stoic glare fixated on the dark gray concrete ceiling above him. _

_The force grew heavier. "It's like you want to die."_

* * *

When Booth woke he found he was bathed in his own sweat. The blankets that had been covering him were twisted and distorted around his body. His mouth was parched. He felt weak, and dizzy. Sitting up in itself was a task. He swept the room with the only bit of blurry vision his good eye could offer him. He was alone. "Bones?"

She emerged from the bathroom and approached him. When she grew close enough he could see clearly that she'd been crying. Her wavering smile was fake. Red circles rimmed her eyes. He sat up straighter. "Bones… what's wrong?"

"It's nothing." She cleared her throat. "How are you feeling?"

"It's not nothing. I can tell you're upset. You never cry. What's wrong? C'mere." He invited, patting the bed next to him.

Little did he know that his behavior was only making her feel worse. This was the man he'd been before this nightmare began. Still, she accepted and crawled into bed beside him. "I'm just very worried about you." That wasn't the half of it.

"That's why you should let me go off on my own."

She scoffed. "How would that lessen my anxiety? It'd only make things much worse for me. It's not logical. I can't keep having this argument with you. I refuse to leave you alone, especially now. Have you so much as looked at your ankle? If they were to get wind of you in your condition you wouldn't have a chance. I'm not going to risk losing you."

He glanced away from her. When he addressed her again his voice was full of emotion. "It was a metal baseball bat, all right? I did try to escape. They left the door open of the cell they were keeping me in one night. I barely got outside before I got tackled. They pulled me back in, and beat on me. They told me if I tried it again they'd amputate, _without _anesthesia." Finally he looked back at her with infuriated tears in his eyes. "If they're willing to do that kind of stuff to me, what do you think they'll do to you?"

She fought back another urge to cry. "Booth-"

"I don't have a plan, Bones. I have no idea what the hell it is I'm doing. I'm just trying to lead them away from everything that means something to me. I'd die if they hurt you, or Christine. _That's _why this is so important to me. That's why I left like I did. But don't think it was easy for me."

"I'm sure it wasn't. And I understand your reasoning. But I simply can't separate myself from you. If you're not safe, then I'm not either. We'll figure out what to do together. Just please, stop shutting me out."

A tense moment of silence passed between them. "I can't stop you," he whispered at last. "But I can't talk to you about it, either. Some things you're better off not knowing. The other stuff…" He shook his head. "I'm just not ready."

"Okay." She could respect his space. "But I hope if you ever are, you'll come to me."

"Yeah," he breathed.

She still had so many more festering questions for him. Why was he lying to the bureau? What had his captors done to him that caused him to unconsciously ramble brainwashed words in his sleep? But she satisfied herself with letting them burn inside of her for now. There would be a time and a place for the rest to reveal itself to her. And it would only come as he'd said: when he was ready.

"What time is it?" He wondered.

"Around eight in the morning. You slept all through yesterday. I assumed you needed it."

"We've been here too long. We need to get out. Lets," he tried to ease himself up from the bed. One step on his broken ankle nearly had him stumbling to the floor. "Lets go to the hospital," he exhaled in a trembling voice. "Get breakfast, and get out of town."

"You're in pain."

"I'm in a lot of pain. And it isn't just my ankle."

"Perhaps now you'll allow me to take care of you?"

He smiled a little.

* * *

Their visit to the hospital took much longer than anticipated. Booth was taken for new sets of x-rays before a physician arrived to wrap up the wreckage. He had indeed broken more of the bones that made up the structure of his ankle. They were also both surprised to discover that he was running a slight fever.

"You shouldn't have wandered off in the rain," Brennan chided.

"It wasn't raining when I left." He grumbled.

He was given a set of crutches (which he threw in the backseat of her car and wouldn't acknowledge) and then was discharged. Together they sat gazing out at the horizon. "Where should we go?" Brennan inquired.

"North. Lets stick with heading north."

She threw the car into drive. Off the raced into the rising sun.


	9. Secrets And Lies

"_If he isn't going to talk, we'll just have to beat it out of him!"_

_Booth hardly had the strength to hold his head up. How long had he been in captivity? Hours? Days? Weeks? He couldn't recall the last time he'd had food or water; anything of sustenance for that matter. His captors had taken a sick pleasure in using him to be their human punching bag. Still, not a word would pass his lips. Too many lives were at stake were he to give the information they wanted out of him._

_Time slowed to a crawl while he nearly had the life violently beaten out of him. All he could do was shut his eyes and brace his body as well as he could for the repeated onslaught. Just as he was sure the next impact would end his suffering, a voice intervened. "You can quit. The boss wants to see you two."_

"_Damn. We were just getting started."_

"_Take a break. You've done enough damage. Besides, we don't want to kill him yet. Now go." Whomever he was, he spoke with authority in his voice. _

_Footsteps shuffled out of the room. Booth felt a being kneel besides his broken body. "Seeley, Seeley." He clucked his tongue. "What have you gotten yourself into?"_

_Booth knew he'd heard this voice before. His rattled brain was easily confused. But this was too unmistakable to be anything else. All the strength he had left was poured into the effort of opening just a single eye. His suspicion was confirmed, but still it was difficult to believe who had taken vigil at his side._

_A plate of food sat before him. A glass of water off to the side. "This could be yours, Seeley. Just give it up."_

"_I'd rather die," he finally hissed._

"_I wouldn't say that too loud. These men are more than willing to make that happen. You never should have gotten mixed up in this. This world isn't for you, Seeley. You should have known better." His visitor edged the plate of food towards him. "You can't keep this up. You know that. There's a chance they'll let you live if you just-"_

"_I'd rather die." He reiterated._

_A sigh. "I was really afraid you'd say that. They're not playing around anymore." The man backed off. "You did this to yourself."_

_Fate stepped in before further damage could be inflicted. A black curtain induced his artificial night._

* * *

Brennan had no more than her thoughts to keep her company for the next few hours. The hum of the car's engine was like a sweet lullaby to Booth's ears. She'd watched him try to fight it for the first twenty minutes of their journey before he succumbed to his exhaustion. He'd slumped in his seat, and his head had come to rest on the window besides him. Soon she heard his breathing deepen. She'd left him undisturbed ever since.

Which naturally juiced her thoughts. What was to happen to them? What was to become of their family? Heading north was fine plan - for now. But what happened when they reached the Canadian border? If Booth was trying to evade the FBI (as he seemed to be) then how would he be able to leave the country? Both his real name and his alias would be a waving white flag to the organization.

That transitioned into other questions burning up a hole within her. Just why was he hiding from the bureau? Booth was a commendable agent. He had immense respect from his peers and superiors. She couldn't believe that none of them would be willing to aid them now. So what had happened? What had he seen during his abduction that had turned him away from the only people they should have been able to trust? The question had her reeling in fear for him; the fear of the unknown. His entire belief system had been changed. What would that do to his spirit?

They were midway through Colorado when Booth woke from his extended nap. He said little to her, preferring to keep his eyes on the passing scenery. At long last his other eye was beginning to open again. It still was hideous to look at, and she questioned how well he could see. She thought about asking him but knew the effort would be fruitless. He wouldn't admit to anything. And it was his silence that she detested. That morning she was sure she'd broken through his needlessly tough exterior. She'd foolishly thought the two had come to a place of understanding; of compromise. Now she was back to feeling as though they were back on shaky ground. "Booth?"

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

"I would like to stop soon at a rest area. I need a break. I would think by now you need one as well."

He shrugged noncommittally. She tried to stifle her sigh of frustration. There was just no real way of getting through to him, despite what he'd led her to believe. Never before had she seen him lock himself up so tightly. His inner conscious could be rivaled with Fort Knox, and just as difficult to break into. _Some things you're better off not knowing. _His words came back to her. But what was she better off not knowing? And honestly, for whom did it really benefit?

Given that she wasn't getting any real responses from him she opted not to say anything more. The next rest stop was located in amongst a forest preserve. A stone building stood out against the backdrop of pine trees. The site was mostly abandoned with the exception of an elderly couple walking off their aches and pains. She stopped in the first parking space. She glanced over at Booth to find he'd drifted off again. The amount in which he was sleeping troubled her. His injuries had been expansive, and he'd left the hospital much too soon. That much was true. But had they realized the steep cost of such a brash decision? How would he fare being constantly on the move? Was this game of cat and mouse worth his life?

Before she exited the car she pressed her lips against his cheek. The warmth in his skin surprised her. _His doctor at the hospital said he was running a fever. Perhaps later I can persuade him to take some aspirin. _As if she didn't have enough to worry about. Resignedly she sighed, and left him alone to rest. There would be plenty of time that afternoon to voice to him her concerns.

Though she couldn't have been gone more than five minutes, it was still enough for Booth to disappear from sight. She stood on the sidewalk glaring at the empty passenger seat in annoyance when his voice floated over to her. She was steadfast in creeping around the grounds to find him. Fortunately, he hadn't gone far. He'd stayed on the path that led around out back of the building. He stood solitary, leaning against the wall with his back to her. A cell phone was pressed up against his ear, which drew her confusion. _Why would he not have turned it off? He knows how easily he can be tracked._

He had no idea he was no longer alone. Discreetly she hid herself back around the corner, close enough so she could still hear his one sided conversation, but far enough away that she could make a hasty escape if required.

"I appreciate it, but you can't call me anymore. I'm not alone. I don't want to bring anyone else into this." There was a period of silence before he spoke again. "Yeah. I know. Look, if I uh… if I hand myself over to them, will they leave my family alone?" There was a tremor in his voice.

Brennan inhaled a sharp breath. _No, Booth!_

"Yeah. Yeah, I know. Look, you're telling me everything I already know. If it will keep them safe then I'm willing. It's worth it."

It seemed even the stranger on the other end knew Booth's intentions were pure suicide. Brennan's heart pounded like a bongo drum. She felt lightheaded, and panicked. _I can't let him go. I can't let him do this._

"It's not just me I gotta think about anymore." He abruptly snapped, pulling her away from her anxiety ridden thoughts. "I know they don't know, but I just assume keep it that way. If that's what it takes to protect them then I'll do it. Listen, I gotta get back to the car. Once we get settled tonight I'll call you again. But you can't call me. Don't text me. Let me contact you."

Brennan slunk away. If there was more conversation to be had she couldn't bear to hear it. This wasn't the first time she'd had to face her fear of having a life without Booth in it. Their jobs were dangerous, and she'd always accepted the risk without a backwards glance. She trusted in Booth's ability to take care of himself. And throughout the years he'd never let her down. But now to know he was so willing to die without any good, concrete explanation as to why shattered her steely resolve. She was fighting tears as she placed herself back down in the driver's seat of her car.

When Booth joined her a few moments later she couldn't even bring herself to look at him. She felt him slide into his seat besides her. "Hey, sorry. I decided I wanted to go for a little walk. My muscles were cramping."

"I understand," she said softly. _Too_ softly.

He eyed her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just wish you would have found a way to let me know, or waited until I came back so I could join you. I don't appreciate being led to believe I've been abandoned again." The intensity in her tone shocked even herself. She'd always been a lousy liar, in addition to being a terrible actor. Yet her words came out fluidly. Perhaps it was because she wasn't entirely fibbing.

Booth blinked as though she'd slapped him. "I'm… I'm sorry."

"Lets just move on." Roughly she threw the car into reverse.

"Okay." He slouched down in his seat, tilted his head to the side, and shut his eyes.

Only after she was certain he was asleep did she allow her tears to fall.

* * *

"_Not so tough now, are ya, fed?"_

_Booth couldn't stop vomiting. It didn't matter that there was nothing in his stomach to expel. His abdomen still clenched as though he'd consumed a five course meal. Anytime he so much as moved his head he was greeted with a ache that ricocheted through his skull. His right eye had swollen completely shut, making his already compromised vision that much worse. _

_The floor beneath his head vibrated as someone else entered the room. "Orders came from boss, guys. It's time we take a little drive."_

_Booth winced. He knew what was coming. _

"_We goin' shootin'?"_

"_Yeah," said the person he'd trusted; the one who had promised him protection. "It's time."_

* * *

"Tempe?"

"Yes, Andrew. Hi. What can I do for you?"

"I just have a quick question for you. You aren't with Booth by any chance, are you?"

Pause. "No. Why do you ask?"

"He checked himself out of the hospital a few days ago without our approval. No one has seen or heard from him since. We're getting concerned, Tempe. This isn't like him."

"I'm aware of that. I went to visit him and was told he had left. I have been unable to locate him, and he hasn't contacted me."

"All right. Well if you hear from him, please let us know. Given our suspicions of his behavior… we just really need to question him."

"I understand. If he contacts me I will let you know."

"Thanks, Tempe."

* * *

Brennan set her phone down on the hotel bed underneath her. "He's not the only one who's suspicious," she whispered.


	10. Something Left To Save

"_It's such a shame. I was really hoping this one would talk. I mean seriously, how many of these feds are we gonna have to kill before we get someone to talk? Wouldn't you think one of them would wanna save their own bacon?"_

"_Patriots are exactly willing to spill government secrets. Not everyone sees the truth for what it really is. Besides, we probably should have known better with this one."_

"_But why? __I really thought with being in the military and all-"_

"_He doesn't sympathize with us. Get over it."  
_

_Booth's limp body was thrown onto the ground with force. His cloth prison was torn away from him, exposing him to darkness and stagnant air. Three of his tormentors stood over him; including _him. _Had he had his wits about him he would have given him a glare cold enough to form ice in the man's veins. But he'd made the unfortunate mistake of struggling as he'd been taken from the compound. A crack to the head from that torturous baseball bat had rendered him completely paralyzed. The pain in his skull was blinding, and he wasn't so much as able to lift an arm. _

"_Leave him in the bed sheet. We'll cover him with it afterwards and leave him wrapped until boss tells us where he wants him."_

"_All right. Whatever." A gun was cocked. "This is gonna be great."_

_Booth shut his eyes tight and prayed for a savior._

* * *

The sound of the shower was as soothing rain trickling onto luscious summer leaves. It was a pleasant noise Brennan could allow herself to focus on to distract her from the thoughts that had been brow beating her all day. For four days now she and Booth had been on the run. Their days were spent burning rubber on the highways and back country roads. Their nights were idled by in hotel rooms, or occasionally the back seat of their car. The two of them barely fit together, especially when taking into consideration Booth's injuries. But when it boiled down to necessity they'd made it work.

Living arrangements hadn't been the issue. As per usual, it'd been Booth. Over the course of the past few days she'd noticed how far he seemed to be slipping away from her. He hardly spoke unless it was concerned with where they were to eat dinner or to stay for the night. Her prodding questions into his abduction were either ignored or met with a blank stare. When he was feeling particularly ignorant she'd catch him staring at his phone, discreetly typing on the touchscreen keyboard with his thumbs while pretending to be gazing at the scenery passing by their window. She had every intention in tracking down his phone. The trouble was, whenever he was separated from her he always had it on him. Even now while he was in the shower, she had no idea as to where he'd placed the device. And honestly, she was too damn tired and frustrated to search for it.

She hadn't the foggiest idea as to what to do. How did one play savior to someone who didn't want to be rescued? Booth had already made up his mind that he would be giving up his life for his family, so far as Brennan understood it. Given his behavior she assumed that was his reasoning for distancing himself. But did he really think his death would be easier on her just because he acted like a jerk for a few days? They had a life together; a child together. If anything were to happen to him she knew she'd never be able to move on. That was precisely why she had to concoct a plan to save them all.

The taps turned off. The sound of rushing water ceased. Brennan sat up in bed from where she'd been stretched out across it. She picked up the anthropology journal she'd been looking at and thumbed through a few pages. With a pillow behind her head she reclined back against the headboard to read. But no matter how hard she tried to concentrate her attention was gone the moment Booth stepped out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel. He stopped to stare at his freshly shaven face in the mirror.

Brennan used the moment to her advantage. She let her unadulterated eyes wander over every exposed inch of him. They hadn't made love since before Christine was born. The woman in her was aching for the touch only he could provide. She craved physical contact; the feeling of his skin rubbing up against hers. She wanted to do things to him… that would likely leave him cringing in pain, if she had to judge by his reflection in the mirror. His bruises resembled a Van Gogh painting. A swirl of various dark hues covered almost every line of his muscled canvas. The gauze square covering his gunshot wound was gone. Seeing it in the mirror made her feel sick to her stomach. "You need to recover that, Booth."

He whirled around. "Huh?"

She pointed to the area. "You shouldn't have taken the bandage off while you were showering. That wound still needs to be protected." Actually, since the dressing needed changing anyway she now had the perfect excuse. "I have a first aid kit. I can fix it for you."

"Yeah. All right." He shrugged.

She popped up from the mattress and gestured for him to lay down. Warily he did as requested. Within moments she had the kit opened and set up besides him. She lowered herself down onto her knees and knelt over him. His eyes watched her every move as she tore open a paper wrapper that contained a singe gauze square. Tenderly she pressed it against the wound. Next she took out a roll of medical tape. "I have to tape it down," she stupidly explained. For some reason his intense gaze made her blush. Had he been able to decipher her previous thoughts?

"I assumed so, Bones." He smiled a little. "Do whatever it is you gotta do."

She rose herself up a little taller so as to obtain the proper height to see what she was doing. She was so close to him that she could smell his aftershave and shampoo. They were small reminders of everything she missed about him. Unfortunately, they also increased her longing for him. Sharply she inhaled.

"What is it?" He asked gently. "Are you okay?"

Did he understand that when he showed concern it only made their situation that much harder for her? "Yes, Booth. I'm fine."

"Then why'd you breathe like that?"

"I was just breathing."

"You don't breathe like that unless something's wrong."

She was losing her patience. "You're reading into it too much, Booth."

"I have to."

The last piece of tape was smoothed across his chest. She sighed. "It isn't worth discussing. You aren't going to change. There's nothing I can say or do to change your mind. I just… I miss you."

He sat up. "I'm right here, Bones. I haven't gone anywhere."

_But you have. _She raised her eyes to his. _Don't you realize what your secrets are doing to us? What they're doing to me? You've let them change you; turn you into a stranger. I don't know who you are anymore._

His eyes searched hers. As though he could predict her thoughts he hauled her up into the bed next to him. Gently his lips touched hers, and he kissed her slow and sensual. Up and down her arm he strummed his hand, invoking goosebumps. She pressed herself closer to him. Her lips parted to allow him inside to taste her. Her pulse spiked. This was what she'd been needing from him; reassurance. Here was where she could find him. This side of him hadn't been damaged.

Though Brennan would have loved to turn up the heat between them, rationality won over lust. "We can't," she sighed mournfully when he reached for the hem on her shirt to remove it. "You're too hurt, Booth. You won't enjoy it, and therefore I won't enjoy it either."

She saw him start to protest, but the words died on his lips when he realized she was right. He chose instead to snuggle down with her underneath the sheets. She could feel his heart racing when he pulled her into his strong embrace. She kissed his neck before laying her head down on his shoulder. Silently she watched several different emotions flicker across his face. _No. Don't fade away from me now. _Her hold on him tightened.

"It's all right," he under toned to her in response.

But it wasn't. It wouldn't be. Feeling as though she had nothing left to lose she gave the dice a roll. "No it isn't. Booth, I had to watch your abduction thousands of miles away without any way to help you. For days I went on not knowing where you were. Not knowing if you were dead or alive. I left everything behind to hike into the desert just to find you. And when I do, you've been beaten beyond recognition. You're covered in blood, and you're continuing to bleed out despite my best efforts. You were minutes away from death when I found you. Do you understand that?" She questioned him sternly. "Your heart was stopping beneath my hands while I was waiting for help. I thought the threat was over when your life was saved. But now, most of the time I feel as though I don't even know you. It's as though you're a stranger. Andrew keeps calling me. Looking for you. He says the bureau can't find you, and that you haven't been in contact with anyone. But I've seen you on the phone, so you must be conferring with someone." She felt his muscles stiffen.

"What do you want me to say?" He finally asked quietly after a period of time had passed.

"I want you to tell me the truth." _I want you to tell me what your intentions are, and who you've been talking to on the phone. _"Booth, whatever trouble you're in... we can find a way out of it."

No answers to any of her questions were spoken. To her complete disappointment he untangled himself from her and retreated from the bed. Immediately he dressed and awkwardly headed for the door.

She lowered her eyes in sadness. "I'll stop asking questions. Just don't leave."

"I need to take a walk."

"You can't walk like that. Your ankle-"

He sighed, shook his head, and stalked through the door. Behind him it slammed hard enough to rattle the door frame. She rolled over onto her side and shut her eyes.

Booth marched down the old country road away from the hotel. He seethed as he ambled along. Why couldn't she just leave well enough alone? Why couldn't she just understand that right now there were certain aspects of his life he just couldn't share with her? She was safer not knowing, and that was how he intended to keep it.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he never noticed the car creeping up behind him until it was directly besides him. The driver motioned for him with a flick of his hand. Intrigued and confounded, he limped to the passenger side of the car where the window had been rolled down.

"Yeah, uh. Can you tell me how to get back to the highway?" The driver muttered his question.

Something felt off. Booth started to back away suspiciously. His instincts proved to be right. He saw no more than the silver flash of a gun before he heard the sound of a round being discharged, and his world turned black.


	11. Certain Truths

Brennan was almost asleep when the muffled sound of a gunshot reverberated through the hotel room. It echoed off the walls and slammed into her manically beating heart. _Booth. _She threw herself out of bed. _Could he have hurt himself? Would he? _She knew he had been set on sacrificing himself for the sake of his family. Had their disagreement sparked him into taking matters into his own hands? _No. He doesn't even have his weapon. _So far as she knew it hadn't been in his possession since she'd found him fighting for his life in the death pit. He'd signed himself out of the hospital before the bureau could have properly outfitted him once again.

She flung the door to the room open as thunder shook the ground and a soaking rain fell from the heavens. She ran barefoot through the forming sludge down the street. Red tail lights shone through the darkness like two glowing eyes. As she drew closer she could see the vehicle was a bright lemon color, and very obviously judging by its frame a sports car. Two black racing stripes ran across the length of the trunk. The back door on the passenger side was ajar. Just as she grew near enough to get a good glimpse at its occupants the door slammed shut. With squealing tires it kicked up mud and raced off into the night.

Brennan was a runner, but she was no match. She was left behind in a cloud of exhaust fumes. Tire tracks were left behind in the mud. Just besides where they began were a set of footprints. A smear streaked off of the road sideways into the grass. There though it was rapidly being washed away by the rain, Brennan spotted a few spots of blood. _They shot him, and abducted him. Again. _As disheartened as she was, she was also encouraged. Mere splotches of blood meant there was a possibility that Booth was still alive. The car was distinct enough that unless his captors thought to ditch it she could call in a description to the local police and easily have it located.

She turned around and went back the way she had come. She burst back into the room. Her phone had been set upon the bedside table hours ago. Her movements were so frantic that in reaching for it, it slipped from her grasp down into the dislodged drawer just underneath the tabletop. "I don't have time for this," she mumbled, inserting her fingers in between the narrow space. With all of her might she tugged until the track inside gave way. Backwards she fell, the drawer flying from the frame and landing upside down on the floor. She was swift in righting herself, and tossing the drawer aside to retrieve her phone. Only to her surprise two phones were awaiting her. One was hers, naturally. The other was Booth's.

_We could have used this to trace his coordinates, _she frowned sadly. But then another idea came to her. Could his mysterious accomplice be a savior in disguise? She flipped through his phone's **"recent calls"** list to see whom he had been talking to. The name listed turned her blood cold. She couldn't believe what she was seeing.

Booth's confident had been no other but his own brother.

* * *

"_Seeley, quit acting so full of pride. Just say what they want you to say. I know you have it memorized. They've beaten it into you."_

_Booth found himself barely able to look Jared in the face. He may have been weak but his anger was feeding fuel into the fire. "What's it matter? They're going to kill me, anyway."_

"_I promise I'll keep you protected. But you've gotta be willing to give."_

_He finally raised his eyes to him. "Is that how you got here?"_

_Jared sneered. "I made some mistakes, Seeley. I'm trapped in here now. But you… this wasn't supposed to happen. You weren't supposed to be here. You know that."_

"_Yeah well, I guess your group had other plans for me."_

_The door to his cell opened with a loud metallic clang. Jared leapt away from Booth, rising up onto his feet. The mastermind of the group trumped in. "Fraternizing with the prisoner, Jared?"_

"_Trying to convince him to come to his senses."_

_The man smirked. "Sounds to me like he'd rather die. It makes no difference either way to me." In the blink of an eye the man had the sharp edge of a knife touching the skin under Booth's chin. "However, I'm stubborn. I'm not ready to give up on him just yet."_

* * *

Brennan was holding onto her composure by a sliver thin strand. Sitting in a booth in a twenty four hour diner not all that far from her hotel, she was gripping her coffee cup as though she could absorb the heat into her body through osmosis. She'd purposefully sat by one of the floor to ceiling windows that looked on out into the parking lot. Being seated here meant she'd see him long before he'd see her. One of the gifts Booth had given her was to teach her some basic signs of body language; specifically, what they meant. She wanted to catch him, to see what he was like when he assumed no one was looking.

She'd called Jared right away from Booth's phone. He hadn't feigned his surprise over hearing her and not Booth over the line. At her request to meet he'd tried to refuse before she'd insisted upon it. "It's about Booth," she snapped. "You _need _to meet with me immediately."

Her thoughts alternated now between rage and fear. What was Jared's role in this? Was he the reason for Booth's continued silence? For his ignorance towards the FBI? And for that matter, what had happened to Booth? Had he been killed? Was he in pain? Was he in a remote location bleeding out? The last thought sent chills up her spine. Booth was too smart and too strong to be taken down so easily. But then again they'd gotten to him before.

She was so lost within herself she missed Jared's entrance. He slid into the seat opposite from her. Looking him over she couldn't see any indications that he was aware of what had happened. Well, he was about to.

"It's good to see you, Tempe."

"Stop." She snipped back at him. "I want you to tell me where Booth is. I know you know."

His face went blank. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do! I know you're involved with this… this group, that initially abducted him. I know he was considering turning himself over to them to keep us safe. I know all this because I heard him on the phone - with you! The fact that you were nearby when I called you is only further evidence of your involvement. A few hours ago I was laying in our hotel room when I heard a shot. I arrived outside just in time to see him get abducted for a second time. I have to find him. Now tell me what you know! This is your fault!" She slammed her fist down against the table top, drawing curious stares from other patrons.

Obviously Jared saw there was no talking his way out of this one. He sighed, and lowered his voice. "I told him not to get involved. I warned him. I told him to turn away-"

"Where. Is. He?"

"If I had to guess… they're taking him back to their compound in New Mexico. I don't know that for sure. But as far as I know they don't have any other locations or allies. They're an extremist group. They believe in working alone." Her cold eyes were clearly unsettling him. "Look Tempe, I didn't want to get involved in this, either. I don't know how it happened. But now I'm in so deep-"

"You were expecting Booth to pull you out. And as usual, he's the one who takes the fall." She sprung up to her feet.

"I told him-"

"And you really believed he'd leave you in distress? Despite the way you've treated him… has he _ever _left you to fend for yourself? That's been his trouble from the beginning. You've never deserved him. He lied to the FBI for you! Since you haven't been there to help him it's up to me now. And I will find him. Dead or alive," she swallowed a hard lump that had formed in her throat. "I'll find him."

"Then I think you need to be prepared. These guys don't play around, Tempe. If you heard a shot… you may already be too late."

"And if you believe that, you obviously don't know him at all." She spun on her heel and stalked out of the diner.

It was time to go back to the desert.

* * *

_Booth had had no idea what had hit him. It seemed one minute he'd been conversing with Brennan through his computer and the next he'd been flat out on the floor with a stun gun being pressed down in the area between his shoulder blades, sending shocks up and down his spine. The static snap of electricity hadn't been powerful enough to knock him out. But it had been enough to leave him completely incapacitated. He hadn't suffered his first head injury until just before they were set to leave. He'd never saw the butt of his gun swinging towards him until it was too late._

_After his confrontation with whom he perceived to be the "leader" of the group, they'd dropped him into a concrete cell without so much as a bed. He had no idea where he was. He couldn't think of a way to send a message to anyone letting them know of the trouble he was in. He had no doubt in his mind that Brennan would be looking for him. But who would be able to assist her?_

_How would anyone ever find him in time?_


	12. Help Is On The Way

The air was so stagnant and stifling Booth felt as though he were hardly able to breathe. It sat heavy on his damaged chest, weighing him down like a ton of bricks. He tried to survey his environment only to find that his eyes refused to cooperate with him. The pain he felt was extreme, particularly near his left temple. He tried to scour his memory to determine what had happened to him. Hopefully his conscious could offer him clues as to where he was. While trying to drum up the past he used his other senses to try and gather information about the present. Night time had set in, he assumed from the sound of chirping crickets off in the distance. His place of captivity was either very warm, or he was running a fever. He could feel the sweat dripping off of his coiled muscles. The smell of sand and blood were all too familiar to him. He'd been brought back to his private prison.

_I think I was shot at. _Vividly he could picture the silver barrel of a handgun being aimed at his head. The discharge of a projectile was as loud as thunder. He'd flinched - a common response. That had to be the only reason he was still alive. _The bullet must have caught the side of my head and missed me. _He tried to pull a deep breath into his lungs. _At least Bones and Christine will be safe now. _A voice froze him solid.

"So you're finally awake." The sound of shoes scuffing the dirt floor circled his body. "You would have been smarter to stay dead, you know that? You've had plenty of chances now. And you waste each and every one. Although I have to say, I was glad my idiot associates didn't kill you this last time. I've got plans for you. You'll be wishing you'd been killed."

Just as before Booth refused to speak; refused to acknowledge or engage his tormentor in any way, shape, or form. He laid perfectly still, reminding himself that this was for the better. The group had gotten what they so desperately wanted; his death. Dying with the information they sought inside of him wouldn't be in vain if it saved thousands if not millions of others, especially his loved ones. He tilted his head towards his chest in a bowing pose and quietly murmured a prayer.

"You think God is going to help you?" The voice snickered. "I'd say he's abandoned you, buddy."

"Hey, boss? We're ready when you are."

"Good. Bring it to me and get him prepared so we can get started."

Booth was powerless against being restrained. His ankles were bound, and his wrists were shackled up over his head. The rest of his body was completely exposed. He had no time to prepare himself as he heard a jolt of pure static electricity. Two metal prongs were stabbed into his skin. A bolt shot through his body, stealing the oxygen out of his lungs and paralyzing his muscles. The evil laughter had him fighting to control his frantic gasping. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction in seeing him suffer.

The torture felt as though it'd lasted for hours. Once he'd just about recovered from a shock they'd shoot him again full of electricity. He could feel his heart struggling to maintain a steady rhythm. His mind was cloudy. His previously localized pain had spread all throughout his body. _This is it. This is how they're going to kill me. I wish they'd just shoot me and get it over with._

Finally he sensed the figure that had been leaning over him rock back onto his heels and stand up. "We're done, for now."

"But why?" Another voice protested. "Don't you-"

"We keep it up and he'll have a heart attack. I'm not ready to dispose of him yet. Don't worry." There was another crackle of electricity. "I got more planned for later."

The two stood and headed for the door, leaving him confined. Before departing his captor had one last dig for him. "By the way, beautiful little girl you have."

Booth inhaled sharply as rage gave him an instant push of adrenaline in his veins. He fought hard to break apart his wrists, drawing exaggerated laughter. Those snorts and chortles faded with the two figures. As soon as they were gone he collapsed into himself. The endorphins were short lived. He was just too tired to fight for his life. _I really screwed up this time. I can't let them hurt my family. I have to figure out a way to warn Bones. There's gotta be something I can do. _But what? His situation was hopeless.

The sandman was just about take him under into his sweet hold when he heard another set of footsteps tip toe in. The being fell down onto his knees besides him. He felt a cool, wet cloth blot his forehead. "You should just tell them something, Seeley." His brother encouraged him in a quiet whisper. "It might get them to lighten up on you."

"So you want me to risk national security on the off chance that they "might" ease up on me? They're going to kill me regardless, Jared. You know that."

"If you feed them something I can get you protection. I can-"

"I heard that once before." He squeezed a single eye open. The image of his brother blurred and floated around in uneven circles. "And then you stood over me and watched while they killed me."

"I was going to get you help, but then Tempe showed up and-"

"I would have been dead by the time you got me help. Bones was barely able to save me."

Jared sighed. "She's looking for you. She called me. I didn't tell her where you were. I figured that's what you would have wanted."

"She's gotta stay safe," he agreed weakly. The boss' voice repeated itself in his mind. _By the way, beautiful little girl you have. _"You can get in contact with her?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"I want you to call her, and tell her she needs to go home and be with Christine. She needs to get her out of the house and go somewhere safe."

"All right. Anything else?"

"Yeah." He swallowed back the blood that had risen in the back of his throat. "Tell her I love her. I love them both."

* * *

Brennan pushed her Prius as fast as it was capable of down the mostly abandoned New Mexico highways. It was late, which gave her the freedom to travel with few complications. Every passing mile brought her closer to Booth. She was confident that once she was back in Albuquerque she could retrace her steps. In doing so she'd have the opportunity to seek evidence that she'd had no time to search for before. Yes, the bureau had done an investigation. But she was positive there were things they'd overlooked. They had to have. Booth's fate remained in her hands. She couldn't let him down.

It occurred to her several times to call Hacker. But each time she reached for her phone she hesitated. Booth had cut himself off from the bureau for a reason. She was sure part of it had to do with Jared. But knowing him like she did she couldn't help but to think that his reasoning went deeper. Booth never did anything without a purpose. His seemingly random acts were never just so. There was always a pattern.

She was debating with herself for the umpteenth time when her phone rang in her clenched hand. The ID showed that her father was calling. _Why would he be calling me so late? _She answered at once. "Hi, dad."

He didn't waste time getting down to business. "Tempe, I took Christine and we left the house."

"What? Why?"

"There were some suspicious men sniffing around outside. I didn't like the looks of them."

_What does this mean for Booth? Have they killed him and decided to come after us? _She blinked tears out of her eyes. "Just keep her safe, dad. And please keep me informed as to where you are."

"Where are _you_?"

Her throat tightened. She could barely speak. "I'm trying to find Booth." Somehow she managed to relay the entire story to her father.

He was silent in thought for a moment after she finished. Then he wondered, "Jared won't tell you anything?"

"He's gotten himself heavily involved with this group. I suppose giving me info will expose himself." _He only cares about saving his own ass. _"I-" Her call waiting went off. She pulled her phone away from her ear to see Jared was on her other line. "Dad, I'll call you back." Before he could answer her she switched lines. "Jared?"

"Tempe, I can tell you where Booth is. But you need to move. He doesn't have long."

"They're going to kill him?"

"…the shape he's in, he may die before that happens. And he knows it."

The tears returned. _Don't play hero, Booth._

"You're going to need backup."

"I should involve the bureau?"

"Yes."

She was puzzled. "Won't that get you into trouble?"

"If it'll save Seeley, then its worth it."


	13. Silence Is Broken

"Suh-si-sir? We've uh, we got a problem."

"What is it? Can't you see I'm busy right now?"

"Yeah but, there's feds outside. A whole slew of them."

"…What?"

"They're calling for us to release the hostage and to come out with our hands up."

"_WHAT? _How in the hell did they find us? This bunker is practically invisible! Someone ratted out our whereabouts! We have a mole among us!"

"Yeah so… what do you want to do? Should we just… release him?"

Smack. "How stupid are you? Do you know the punishment for kidnapping and torturing a federal agent? No. We find the mole, and then we go into self destruct mode. Got it?"

"…I'll give the order."

The floor vibrated from heavy footfall. Booth wasn't able to open his eyes, so he had to rely on his other senses to keep him abreast of the situation forming around him. He was holding onto consciousness by a mere fragile thread. His ailments were at last getting the best of him. His throat was parched from dehydration, and his stomach ached from having not received any sustenance in quite some time. He'd been rudely woken from a light sleep to play another game of "shock." On and off for hours he'd been stabbed with electric heat that had penetrated his bones and ricocheted through his nerves to spread out over his body. His energy had been sapped. By now the restraints they'd placed on him were useless. He couldn't have escaped even if he'd been given the opportunity.

There was the sound of a deep, resigned sigh. "Well, I guess continuing our game is pointless now. It's too bad your friends had to show up looking for you. There's no denying you're stubborn. One of the worst I've ever come across, actually. But I bet in time you would have talked. Doesn't matter now. It's time to shut ourselves in and prepare for the end. You're gonna die like one of us. It won't be slow. But unfortunately for you, it will be painless. You're going to have a nice, long sleep." His tormentor guffawed. "Goodnight, Agent Booth. Have pleasant dreams."

The man no more left before he heard another rat drop into the room. "Seeley. We gotta get you out of here."

"No. You gotta get out of here. They're onto you." He tried to tilt his head upwards. Even that was a challenge. The world had been knocked askew. He couldn't really determine the difference between up and down. His body was failing him. "Did you tell the bureau where to find me?"

"I told Tempe."

Booth swore under his breath. "Jared-"

"C'mon. I'm not leaving you here."

"Just go. I can't get up, all right? And you can't carry me."

Hands rolled him onto his stomach, and an arm encircled his shoulder blades to wrap around his rib cage. "You wanna bet?"

With his brother's help Booth was somewhat able to get his bearings. But staying upright was a battle in itself. He had no feeling in his bare feet, and his wobbly legs refused to support his weight. "I can't," he muttered, near falling back into the sand. "Just go. Save yourself."

"No. I'm not-"

A third voice mingled in their private conversation. "Huh. What exactly do we have going on here?"

_Shit._

* * *

Brennan was annoyed, and bordering on infuriated. Promptly after she'd gotten off the phone with Jared she'd made a call to Hacker back at the bureau. Just as she'd shown up to the coordinates she'd been given an army of federal agents and SWAT had arrived. Since it'd been spur of the moment an agent from the Albuquerque office had been appointed in charge. The two had barely gotten past their greeting when they both felt a strong unspoken contempt for one another. It made no sense, and she didn't care about addressing it. She just wanted Booth out of the bunker and safely back where he belonged.

Except that since they'd arrived the bureau had been dragging their feet in investigating further. A threat had been called to the organization via a loud speaker. A phone had been inserted in through a window as a ways of opening a line of communication. From what she was understanding from being on the outside looking in, the group had no interest in making a compromise. They had no demands. Therefore, she couldn't see why no one had gone in guns a blazing. No group could stand up to the FBI, or a well armed SWAT team.

Finally she could take it no more. Up she charged to Agent Emerald. "Why are you not entering the bunker? Agent Booth's life is at stake!"

"At the current time we have no intel that he is in there, other than the tip from your anonymous source."

"I am telling you, he is in there. What more proof do you need?"

"I'm sorry, but your word isn't good enough. We've been tracking this group for a long time. They are anti government, stocked up to the brim with weapons, and extremely dangerous. The situation has to be handled delicately. There's no saying they won't kill him the moment we breach. There's no saying they haven't already."

She flushed with anger. "He's not dead. He's far too cunning and strong to allow himself such an easy end. You need to get in there and do your job!"

"I-"

The agent was cut off by the sudden sound of gunfire. A being had appeared up over the sandy ridge line. He cradled a machine gun as though it were a newborn baby. Bullets ascended upon the gathered federal crew.

"Hit the ground!" someone screamed, though everyone had already dove for cover. Brennan collapsed in the sand besides Emerald's vehicle. The sound of gunfire had no more ended before shots were returned. The man's body jerked uncontrollably as ammunition turned his skin into Swiss cheese. He was dead long before he buckled onto the ground.

_Believe me now? _She wanted to snark to Emerald.

Gradually everyone climbed back up into their earlier positions. Brennan was trying her hardest not to lose her patience, but it was wearing thin. "This is absurd. Do I need to go in there and do your job for you?"

"Dr. Brennan, I respect that you have a kinship with Agent Booth. But one life on the line does not make for a stampede. There's protocol to be followed. It's not like I intend on throwing him to the wolves here. But certain steps have to be taken."

"Then take them! Because so far all I see is agents doing nothing more than standing around scratching their heads!"

His face burned red. "May I remind you that you are here as a courtesy. Overstep your boundaries and I can easily have you removed from the scene."

She kept quiet, but narrowed her eyes in her best intimidating stare. _Try it, _she silently dared.

"Agent Emerald! They've made contact!"

The two whirled around to find the hostage negotiator waving around his disposable cell phone. Both jogged over to the man who was sweating bullets. Brennan couldn't help but to think that for such a highly stressful job he didn't seem at all as prepared and collected as one would think. "What did they say?" She wondered.

Nervously he glanced back and forth between the two of them. "Just one word. Goodbye."

Brennan gasped. Emerald's grim expression tightened. Another commotion suddenly broke out, drawing their attention in the opposite direction. Someone yelled, "I think we got another Waco, or something!"

"Waco?" Emerald repeated dumbly. Turning back to the compound, they all saw a single trail of smoke drifted upwards into the sky before a fireball exploded, sending dancing embers of flames in every direction. Even from their distance they could hear the tinkling sound of glass being shattered.

"They set off a bomb, and started a fire."

_Booth! _Brennan thought frantically. She took no more than two steps towards the bunker before she was restrained; pulled back. "You can't go in there." Emerald hissed in her ear.

All around her agents and SWAT alike had finally sprung into action. But their activity wasn't good enough for her. "I have to find him! He could be hurt!" She felt irrational, and completely out of control. The feeling was foreign for her. Only Booth was capable of turning her inside out.

"You gotta let them do their jobs, all right?"

She shook her head. A single tear of frustration dripped down her cheek. It was her job to uncover him. She was the one who'd lost him in the first place. But as she couldn't break free she had no choice but to watch the black smoke climb higher and higher towards the clouds, and foolishly hope that Booth was found alive.


	14. Barely Breathing

Booth woke completely disoriented. Weakly he opened his eyes to find everything within his line of version was blurred, and had doubled. He was laying down on a floor covered with grit and sand. His back was pressed up against a wall, and anytime he moved shooting pains traveled down along his spine. Sporadic areas on his chest burned with a searing pain that could only be caused by intense heat. Thick, porous smoke hung heavy in the air. _What the hell happened to me?_

His mind offered him no clues. An earthquake was vibrating all throughout his skull. His lungs burned for the pure untainted oxygen they weren't receiving._ There's a fire. Somewhere there's a fire. Was there a bomb? _He just couldn't recall. _I gotta get out of here. _

As his arms were still bound behind his back he struggled just to shift his body across the room to the nearest window. His posture resembled that of a snake as he slithered through the dirt. Second by second he was becoming lightheaded. His body was begging for him to quit; to lay down where he was and give himself up to the inevitable. He wasn't to survive this. Not with the odds stacked up so highly against him. And certainly not with his injuries. But his determination overruled his physical demands. One way or another he would save himself.

In getting up to the window he used the wall, pressing his sore chest up against it to rock himself back onto his knees. He sat up and immediately realized a flaw in his reasoning. How was he to get the window open without use of his fingers? Although he soon realized how little that mattered. The window had been nailed shut. Even with use of his limbs he hadn't the strength to battle the deterrent. Briefly he entertained the thought of using his head to smash the glass, but chose against it. He was aware he'd already received likely several head injuries from being held hostage. Using his skull to shatter his way to freedom would no doubt knock him out, thus killing him anyway.

There was nothing he could do. And as the smoke continued to fill his lungs he lost his remaining will. He collapsed onto the floor like a wilting flower. It wouldn't be long until he was gone.

* * *

Firefighters were doing their best to battle back against the blaze that continued to burn out of control. The white smoke billowing up into the sky had nothing to do with surrender, as it mingled with the black smoke that told of the destruction still taking place inside the compound. Brennan was doing her best to remain as tough as nails. Certainly she didn't want these men seeing her cry, no matter how scared she was for Booth. _Why aren't they finding him? Where could he possibly be? _She'd seen a dozen firefighters dressed for search and rescue head inside to check for victims. Fifteen minutes later they'd yet to return. The possibilities of what they'd find concerned her all the more. What if members of the group were still alive? What if they were armed? What if this was all a trap? A chill accompanied by a cold sweat trickled down her back. _No. They set this fire on purpose. Booth is still alive. He wouldn't let himself be killed without a fight. _She tried not to remind herself that if the group was unwavering in their decision there wasn't much he could have done about it.

_Please, Booth. _She mentally pleaded. _Just fight._

* * *

Booth was hardly able to breathe. He'd succumbed into such a delirium that he was no longer able to think straight. His glazed eyes were forming patterns where there weren't into the sand beneath his head. The pain within his mind had grown to be near intolerable, and nausea was rolling around in his stomach and dripping saliva from his mouth. His heart felt as though it were beating at such a rapid pace it would explode at any given time. Though he'd faded to a point in which little was comprehending he knew that internally his organs were readying to quit. Death was knocking at the door, just waiting for permission to come in.

"Oh my God. We have to get you out of here."

The voice came to him in a dream. The world tumbled as he was rolled from his back onto his stomach. The rope binding him was slit. Uselessly his arms fell down besides him. Moving them was unthinkable. They had become as heavy as sandbags. He was so heavily confused he repeated the foreign phrase that had been engrained into him; the one that had sent Brennan on edge when muttered in their hotel room.

"No, no. You don't have to do that right now. Or ever again."

All at once he lost the remaining strength he'd had to keep his eyes open. They shut, and he let out a soft sigh. His lungs raged in anger.

"No! You gotta keep your eyes open! C'mon! You can't quit, Seeley!"

The desperate words did nothing to renew his resolve. Too much of the smoke had been inhaled. Too much trauma had been inflicted onto him long before he'd been subjected to that smoke. Taking in one slow breath after another was all he had energy left for, and that too was being used up quickly.

Someone reached behind his back and jutted their arms beneath his shoulders. They grasped his chest and began to drag him backwards. Rocks and other pieces of dirt clung to and scratched at his skin. _Too late. _Those two words were his final thought.

He was aware of a sudden change in air temperature. Out flat he was laid down onto a substance that was different than the sand. It was softer, and moist. The sensation felt pleasant against his aching back. His head tilted back limply.

"Hold on," the voice instructed, both firm and full of concern. "AGENT DOWN!"

* * *

The obvious request for help had Brennan sprinting forward before Agent Emerald could prevent her. Just as swiftly as her legs would carry her did she run towards the direction of the voice she'd heard. _Booth. He has to mean Booth. How bad is he hurt? _Considering his condition the last time she'd uncovered him she thought she would have been prepared for anything. She learned fast that she was dead wrong.

She jogged up over a hill and slid on her rear down the other side. A few feet from the burning inferno she could see a figure forgotten laying on a small patch of grass. He was on his back, and wasn't moving. Whomever had been his savior had disappeared back into the woodwork. That was of little concern to her, however. Mysteries could be investigated later. All she cared about was reaching Booth.

Down besides him she felt onto her knees. He was covered in bruises and burns, both from the stun gun and the fire. His old injuries had been aggravated by the new trauma he'd sustained. She'd no more put her hands on him and uttered his name before his muscles tightened and he shook uncontrollably. The convulsion alone frightened her, but noticing how weak it was put that fear on another level. When it stopped she noticed for the first time how he struggled to inhale. Numerous seconds would pass in between each breath that he was fighting for. _Booth. _A tear finally fell from her eye. But she had no time to show emotion. She pinched his nose and locked her mouth over his. Until paramedics arrived to assist she breathed life into him.

He was assessed immediately and prepared for transport. A body board was slid beneath his back. An oxygen mask was placed over his nose and mouth. Brennan could see that even with it he could do little to draw forth that air into his lungs. She clutched his hand tightly. "Just keep fighting," she whispered in his ear. "You're safe now."

In response he trembled again, leaving her to wonder if there were any truth in her words.

* * *

In the days that followed chaos filled their lives. Booth was stabilized in the hospital where he was listed as being in critical condition due to his inability to breathe. He was buried beneath a turbulent ocean that was suffocating him. Despite the hours Brennan spent huddled at his side talking to him he'd yet to open his eyes up to her. Had it not been for the ventilator rhythmically pumping air into him she was sure he never would have made it past the early hours of being rescued.

Once the fire had been extinguished a thorough search of the compound had found all of the supporting members of the group had died. All evidence had been burned away in the blaze. There were no answers to be obtained. No clue as to why the group had formed, taken so many agents' lives, and self destructed in the manner that they had. If Booth had any information it was locked inside his beaten unconscious. Every day in which he held himself captive was another that had her worrying he'd never find his way home again.

What she found the most puzzling by far was the disappearance of Jared. If he'd been at the compound when the attack had taken place, then he had managed to free himself. His body hadn't been located among the dead. In replaying the action from that day Brennan was sure it'd been him who had called out for help. But why had he saved his brother only to turn his back and run like a coward? It just didn't make one iota of sense.

Since the immediate threat was over Max joined Brennan in the hospital, carting along Christine with him. The family gathered around his bedside. "Look who it is," Max murmured to Christine. "Who is that?"

The small tot tried to reach out to Booth.

His lack of reaction had Brennan steeling herself against an onslaught of emotional pain. She hadn't really expected their daughter to be able to wake her father from a coma. Medical treatment sure hadn't been able to do it. But she had to admit that she'd had hope in the foolish notion.

Christine let out a cry of disapproval.

"He's resting right now, sweetie." Max told her. "I'm sure he'll play with you later."

"Don't tell her that," she snapped. _I don't know if he's ever going to wake up again. He's too injured. _Tears formed in her eyes.

"Tempe," Max said gently.

"His doctors found evidence of electric shock. Wounds from two small prongs were dug into his skin all over his body. They spent hours torturing him with a stun gun. They think it weakened his heart."

Max took a few more steps towards her.

"The smoke deprived him of oxygen. He went too long without being able to breathe properly. None of his previous wounds ever had a chance to heal in the manner they should have. The tendons and ligaments in his ankle and foot are a mess from walking around on them when he shouldn't have been. And his brain… the fracture in his skull," she shuddered. "I know he is strong. He's the strongest man I've ever met. But what if this time that just isn't enough? I can't bear the thought of losing him." She stared sadly at Christine.

"That's why right now you need to take it day by day. Hour by hour. Let him recover at his own pace."

"Rationally speaking, his injuries-"

"Don't be rational right now. Just love him. What he needs is love."

It seemed simple enough. But she also knew intimate details of his expansive injuries. "Love," she echoed. If that was all he required, then she'd love him like he'd never been broken.


	15. Waiting For Change

"I know it is foolish to believe you can hear me. I believe the reality in which your conscious currently lies is impenetrable. I can't assure myself that you feel anything, much less that you are aware of your surroundings. But still I feel as though I need to-" Sigh. "I just… I don't know how to articulate what it is I want to say. I'm frightened for you, Booth. It's difficult seeing how still you are; how broken they've made you. I wish I had some answers as to why all of this occurred. Though I suppose it doesn't matter now. All that matters is your recovery." Long pause. "I need some kind of sign from you, anything that will tell me that all of this will soon be over. Please, Booth."

Brennan held her breath. Her tear filled eyes never drifted away from his face. Patiently she waited to feel his hand tighten around hers. For an eye to open. Hell, even a crooked smile would have been appreciated. But there was nothing. No signs of life or comprehension in the ravaged body that lay besides her. His breathing remained mechanical. His skin cold. His bruises the telltale signs of the war that was taking place internally.

She exhaled in extreme melancholy. Since no one had been able to wake him up in any employed action she tried whispering directly into his ear. "You take your time," she advised him lovingly. "But don't you dare think you are allowed to die." Back she pulled to watch. His face remained the same. Her voice broke. "_Please, _Booth."

She was so finely tuned into him that she was completely oblivious to the sudden presence of another being entering the room. Then again, with medical staff constantly parading in and out she was bound to eventually grow an immunity. It was only after she heard a roughened voice request, "how is he?" that her eyes shifted away from him.

Jared stood at the foot of his bed. Her eyes narrowed, and she was ready to dig her claws into him. "If you must know, he's in critical condition."

"I know that." He was brazen enough to take a few steps in her direction. "But what's _wrong _with him?"

Her heart couldn't take relaying the information for the umpteenth time. "Talk to his doctors," she spit bitterly.

"…Why are you so angry with me?"

"Because I blame you!" She shouted at him. "He never should have been in this situation. None of this ever should have happened to him, and it did because as usual, you made a mistake! He shouldn't suffer the consequences of your actions!"

Jared was unmoved by her performance. He declared quietly, "something else is wrong, isn't it?"

Her eyes quickly flicked to Booth again. "His blood pressure has been in a steady rate of decline. His pulse is sluggish, and worsening. And his doctors can't tell me why. They have no answers. He can't talk to me, so I have no way of learning whether or not he's in any pain." She knew he was. While overall his expression remained blank there'd been a few instances in which he'd grimaced. It was a prelude to his muscles turning to stone, and his teeth clamping down on the tube threaded into his body through his mouth. In each of these moments she'd been sure he was about to break the surface rising up from the ocean floor. But seconds would pass before the signs would conceal themselves again. It felt like a bad dream. Sometimes she wondered if it was.

"Tempe-"

"I want answers, Jared! Someone needs to be held accountable for the state he's in, and that someone is you!"

Suspiciously his eyes darted back and forth. "Why don't we go for a walk?"

She sputtered, "I don't want to go anywhere with you."

"You want answers? I have 'em. But I don't want to discuss them here. I'm willing to bet you haven't had anything to eat, either. So c'mon." He noticed her reluctance to leave Booth. "He doesn't know you're here. You know that. There's no point in waiting around for something that isn't going to happen."

The flood of emotions that rushed through her veins were ones she ordinarily could have controlled. Very unlike her it was to lose her composure. Yet this time her tight resolve slipped. Jared's unspoken implication had her striking her palm right across his cheek. "I will never abandon him," she seethed through clenched teeth.

Jared rubbed his cheek. "Can we just go, please?"

The two trekked downstairs into the cafeteria. She selected and paid for a bowl of soup that already she knew she wouldn't be eating. Her stomach was in knots. Her heart desired to be back with the man that she loved. Being away from him in his condition was torture.

The two sat down at a table. Jared was the first to begin. "So what is it that you wanna know?"

"Did he know? Did he request this assignment because he was hoping to infiltrate the group and save you?"

He shook his head. "No. He had no idea. He just took the case handed to him. It wasn't until after he'd been abducted that he saw me for the first time."

"How did you get involved with this group?"

He squirmed, clearly not comfortable in answering. "I'd prefer not to discuss that."

She continued right on. "What did your group want from him?"

"Ideally they were hoping to turn him. They did their research. They knew who he was. How important he is. When that didn't work they tortured him, hoping he'd spill secrets about national security. They wanted to compromise it; to hurt the American people. They felt betrayed by both and government and the public. They were out for revenge. Seeley of course," he smiled amusedly. "Would have no part of it. They didn't realize who they were up against. So in the end they just disposed of him, like the others. Then you came along."

Her mind immediately filled with images from the night she'd found him underground. The unconscious smells invaded her nostrils. The fear coursed through her. "Why didn't you protect him, Jared? Why didn't you do something?"

"What could I do? I was in deep. I couldn't do any more than you-"

"I at least tried!"

"So did I! Who do you think got him out before the bunker was gutted with fire?"

He wasn't saying anything to ease her contempt. "Yes, but then you just left him. What precisely happened? How did you get out?"

"A bomb was what started the fire. I'd been discovered helping him out by our leader just as it detonated. He was killed instantly. The force blew Seeley and I apart. He hit a wall. I got thrown onto my back. When I found him he'd crawled to a window and collapsed. I carried him outside, called for help, and then took off. I'm a fugitive," he reminded her. "I shouldn't be here now. But I know how badly he was hurt. He was expecting to die long before that fire. He knew."

Tears burned her eyes. "He isn't going to die."

"I don't want him to, either. But we have to be realistic. Its been a few days and he still hasn't woken. You know as well as I do that that isn't a good sign. If you saw what I saw… what they were putting him through…"

"Enough." She stood up so fast the metal chair beneath her crashed backwards into the wall. "He _will _survive. He isn't a coward like you are. He has a family to fight for, and he will."

By the time she got back to Booth's room she was out for blood. How could Jared be so cold and unloving towards his own brother? His brother whom had nearly sacrificed his life for him. She'd had some of her questions answered; enough to know that Booth's trip to New Mexico had been of the bureau's doing and not his own. Therefore, Jared wasn't completely responsible for Booth's injuries. But she still blamed him.

Entering his room she first became aware of the frantic, attention drawing sounds from his heart monitor. His previously slow pulse was now spiking out of control. He himself had shifted in his bed. His head had tilted to one side. Aggressively he was rubbing a balled fist against his chest. Rapidly he inhaled shallow, short breaths.

"Booth!" She nearly toppled on top of him. Up close he was as pale as a ghost. She gasped a strained breath. "What's wrong? What is it? Is it your heart?"

His eyes were still closed. He was unresponsive to stimuli. His only action was to scrub harder and harder at his skin. His brow lowered, and he made a face of pure pain.

"Booth, what-"

Just as quickly as their onset, his motions were suddenly weakening. His heart rate was dropping through the basement. His arm stilled, and he went limp. Seconds later his heart had stopped.

"No!" Brennan flew out into the hallway. "We need help! He needs help! He's… he's dead!"


	16. Surfacing

Brennan was finding it difficult to breathe. After isolating herself inside the walls of the hospital's waiting room she'd collapsed weakly into a chair, and hadn't been able to move since. Lifting her gaze up from her fashionable shoes required more strength than she could summon. Around her she was aware of conversations taking place between others just as sick as she was over their loved ones. Occasionally fragments of their hushed words would penetrate the protective bubble that had surrounded her brain since Booth had been taken away from her to be examined in Emergency. How silly she'd been to whole heartedly believe that the worst was over. It'd only just begun.

It'd taken several agonizing minutes, numerous doctors, a handful of nurses, and several charges from a defibrillator to get Booth's heart pumping again. He'd stirred by gulping in a large breath of air. But with his eyes still shut tight, and his skin the color of recycled paper, he made it clear he was still struggling. Brennan managed to maneuver around the cluster of bodies to give his hand a brief squeeze. As always she received no reaction. She was distraught, and her condition only worsened after he was taken away from her. Losing sight of him; being separated so as he could be evaluated was more difficult than she could have imagined. In other cases she might have insisted to accompany him. But in this instance she was still so shell shocked that she allowed him to go without trying to protest.

Now here she was hours later waiting for news. She'd phoned her father back in their hotel to inform him of the developments. He'd offered to track down a daycare for Christine so he would be able to come sit with her while she killed time, but she'd turned him down. She couldn't quite trust that the jeopardy the group had placed them in was over. Were they all truly dead? Or had there been others, elsewhere? What if other branches had formed that no one was even aware of? Anything was possible. Jared not mentioning it meant nothing. Christine was safest with Max.

_Jared, _she thought angrily. She still had a strong desire to rip him limb from him. She seized on that rage. The strong, fiery emotion was easier to acknowledge than the crippling depression disabling her conscious thought process. Over and over in a continuous loop her mind replayed the horror she'd just encountered. _He was rubbing at his chest. Could he have had a heart attack? Would it be possible? He was healthy up until now. Perhaps the trauma and strain the stun gun placed upon his heart muscle-_

"Dr. Brennan?"

Several moments had to pass before she realized someone was speaking to her. She glanced up to find a baby-faced, young doctor towering over her. While she would have risen to her feet as a sign of respect she didn't believe her muscles would support her weight. "Yes?"

"I have news on Mr. Booth. Would you like to go somewhere private-"

"Is he dead?" She blurted. So unusual it was for her to be so unglued. Deep down she was appalled at herself.

"No. He's still critical but stable. Through several images and other testing we discovered he was bleeding internally in the area around his lungs and-"

The balloon of anger she'd been holding onto finally burst with a rush of adrenaline. With her body firing now on all cylinders she shot up from her seat. "Why was this not discovered before? Why did his heart have to stop before you realized this? Wasn't he examined properly when he was brought in?!"

"Yes, of course he was. But these things happen. A slow internal bleed often times won't show up on x-rays or scans until days later. He underwent surgery and the damage has been repaired. We're keeping him in ICU for the moment to monitor his progress in depth."

Mostly to herself she muttered, "you should have been doing so in the first place."

If the doctor heard her he chose to ignore her grumblings. "Did you want to see him?"

Of course she did. Being without him left her feeling as though she were drowning in a vast ocean. Therefore, with a curt nod she followed him through the hospital, past many double doors authorizing personnel only, until she was brought to his cubicle housed inside the ICU. Given his appearance the last time she had seen him, little had changed. His tracheal tube had been inserted into his throat through his mouth again, and an additional tube was plugged up his nose. He inhaled when a machine forced him to do so. Otherwise he was just as still as he'd been. She could only imagine what sickening bruises and other stitched lacerations lay concealed beneath his hospital gown.

She stopped at his bedside and for the umpteenth time grasped his hand. "Hi." Her voice sounded strange against the white noise of the machines. Strained. As though she'd been crying even though she hadn't permitted herself to shed a tear. "I'm sorry I didn't realize the distress you were in. If I'd known-" Her voice broke. Before she could say anything further she had to clear her throat. She hadn't broken yet, and she wouldn't do so in his presence. "I just want you to know I'm here, and I will be waiting for you. I love you."

To her utter shock she felt the faintest of pressures applied to her fingertips. _It's just a reflex, _her brain was at once trying to rationalize. _No. It's not. And if it were, he wasn't capable of so much as moving his hand before, either. This is him. He's trying to communicate with me. _A single teardrop rolled down her cheek. "Thank you," she whispered.

* * *

For the next few days Brennan was tortured with nothing but idle time. Booth stubbornly remained in coma, unresponsive and non reactive. Fortunately he had no more brushes with death. Having the internal bleeding addressed meant his heart rate and his blood pressure had remained at steady levels. They weren't well enough to be called healthy. But the continuity of the pace was comforting. There was a reservoir of strength inside of him that had yet to be tapped. She felt confident in thinking that soon he'd find his way home. He just needed to find the way.

In the meantime she remained in contact with her father. Her theory and concerns of other operating branches of the group were presented to him. He listened patiently, and proceeded to do some "sniffing around" with some of his underground contacts. "No one knows anything. They're all dead, Tempe. We're all safe. It's all right to relax now."

But she couldn't. Not just yet.

The nights were perhaps by far the hardest. During the overnight hours she had nothing but time to think without interruption. Should she have allowed Booth to journey to New Mexico? Couldn't she have called Hacker and requested additional paternity time on his behalf? Was there something more she could have done the night of the abduction? Was there more she could have done in general? Why had she let him leave the hospital initially when he'd been so injured? She should have put her foot down. Booth was stubborn; hard headed. But she knew that at her worst he would back down to her. She would have hated manipulating him in such a way. But seeing as how events had turned out, she wished she had.

She didn't spend every night with him. Every other she returned to her hotel to shower and get some rest. Food wasn't a consideration. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd felt hungry. Booth was her primary concern, and he would remain as such.

One night she had just about exited his cubicle to head out for the evening when a deep grunting noise had her frozen in her tracks. Slowly she pivoted on her foot. Booth was watching her. His lids were heavy, and he only really had a small slit in each eye to see out of. But it was enough to get his point across. He had woken.

"Booth!" She rushed to his side. Tightly she gripped his hand as though through a simple touch she could keep him alive forever. Their pulses would ignite and form a lifeline that spanned throughout the both of them. If only such things were possible.

In gazing down into his eyes she could determine that consciously he was only semi aware of his surroundings. But he saw her, and recognized her. That was all that mattered. "How are you feeling? Are you in pain?"

He nodded a little. She dispersed him a dose of pain medication from a remote attached to his IV tubing. Momentarily his eyelids lowered completely. He let out a soft sigh. She allowed herself a short chortle of amusement. "Rest, Booth. Save your strength. We'll have plenty of time to talk later."

He was safe and sound. That was all that mattered.


	17. Retreat

"Dad has decided to return home in a few days. I told him to bring Christine by one last time so that you may say goodbye to her." Brennan dug deep into a plastic container that had once been filled with a green gelatinous mixture. "I plan on speaking to your doctors soon to see if we can't have you transported. I have to imagine you're anxious to leave this state considering all that's happened to you. You're doing well enough now that I can't see why there would be a problem with it." While she'd been speaking she'd been avoiding Booth's gaze. She lifted her eyes now to see if he'd been listening.

Pleased she was to see he was watching her with a distinct level of intensity. In the few days it'd been since he'd woken he'd done more listening than speaking, but she knew he was capable. Whenever a question was directed to him he easily responded with no delay. She'd come to believe that he just didn't want to communicate. He didn't have the energy or desire. The days were broken apart by multiple periods of sleep. The random bouts would attack him out of the blue, and in the middle of a conversation he'd drift off. Yet with all this rest he was still always exhausted. The pouched circles beneath his eyes had nothing to do with his other various physical injuries. He'd made a great amount of progress already since emerging from his coma, but still had a long way to go. His broken body had yet to begin healing from the ravaging trauma it'd been through.

"I'm not sure when dad plans on leaving. I'd like it if we could coincide the trips-" She interrupted herself. Booth's gaze had shifted elsewhere. She followed the trail to see he was eyeing the remainder of the Jello cup she'd been eating. There was no way she could conceal her grin. "You want the rest?"

"If you're not going to finish it…"

She willingly surrendered the dessert. He took one heaping mouthful after another. Once he was finished he set it on a table besides his bed. "I want to go home, Bones." He confirmed.

"You won't be going home, but rather to another hospital so you can continue your care. Do you understand how gravely injured you are? You could have died, Booth. You almost did."

"Just a scratch," he muttered faintly. His eyes drifted closed, and he slunk lower on the pillows stuffed behind his head and back.

She glowered at him. "I think it's significantly more severe than a scratch. I allowed you to leave the hospital before when you weren't ready. Because of it you may have permanent damage to your ankle and your foot. I won't let it happen again. You aren't in any shape."

"Iz fine." His mumbled words were almost unintelligible. She frowned. Did he really not comprehend the extent of his injuries, or was he being ignorant? Either option was possible. He'd always kept a stiff upper lip when it came to physical abuse. Showing his pain was a rarity. Which was why she had no qualms about distributing him a dose of painkillers. Then she kept her sights on him all while he floated back into the place between earth and the stars where she knew he felt no pain. And that was all she wanted for him.

For a few hours she remained, observing him. The cast on his wrist had been changed, and was a stark white compared to the dirt that remained on the rest of him. His staff had done their best to tidy him up, but some grit stubbornly refused to come off. Some of it had been engrained in his wounds. His forehead where the bullet had skimmed his skin had a gauze square tapped over it. The swelling had gone down in his features, but his bruises and lacerations had failed to show any improvement. Then again, it wasn't as though his muscles had had any time to recover before they'd been beaten again. Nothing in his appearance surprised her anymore. She was sure she'd already witnessed the worst.

Thinking of the abuse mirrored the thoughts she'd had previously; worries over the potential of the group's continuing threat. She trusted her father, but what if his underground contacts just hadn't caught wind of the imposing danger? What if it was beyond their circle of knowledge? She felt it as her responsibility to protect Booth, as at the moment he obviously wasn't able to fend for himself. Therefore she couldn't see these worries as being unreasonable. Her family was her main priority.

So immersed she was in her ponderings that she didn't hear the heavy steps of footfall until the incoming visitors were entering his cubicle. She craned in her chair to see Hacker waltz in with several other agents behind him. When he happened to face her she glared back cold hearted daggers; a look that would have made the most hardened criminal shudder. As far as she was concerned the bureau wasn't absolved from any blame. They'd failed to protect one of their own. Perhaps Booth hadn't been forthcoming with information. But he hadn't deserved being thrown to the wolves.

"Hi, Temperance." Hacker greeted her formally. "I need you to step out for a few minutes-"

She cut him off with a stern, "no."

"No?"

"I refuse to leave his side. Whatever you need to discuss with him can be said in my presence. I don't know how well he's able to respond to your questions, to begin with. He's still critically injured. Maybe if you'd bothered to keep tabs on him you would be aware of his fragile condition."

Hacker pulled back, stunned. Brennan had never spoken to him in such a firm manner before. "We _were_ keeping track of his whereabouts."

"Really? Because I would have thought if you were, a task team would have come up with his location long before I did. The standoff caused by your agents nearly killed him. And while he's been stationed here in the hospital I don't recall you coming to visit him even once."

Hacker was turning as red as a stop sign. "I've been busy-"

"Too busy to take care of one of your own. I won't leave him."

His voice softened. "Tempe, this isn't a request. It's a command."

"You won't remove me this time." She was adamant. "This doesn't need to be done now."

"Bones."

All attention was drawn to Booth. He'd squeezed an eye open and was watching on guardedly. "Iz okay. I'll be okay."

She was far from happy at the dismissal, and tried to nonverbally tell him so as she was escorted out. Originally her plan was to wait directly outside so she would be able to eavesdrop on the conversation to be had. However, to her chagrin she was taken straight out in the waiting room. "This isn't necessary," she growled at the agent gripping her bicep in his meaty fist.

"Orders are orders," he shrugged, clearly unaffected. She collapsed down into a chair and scowled at his retreating back.

Hours ticked by. She consumed cup after cup of coffee; so much so that she began to grow antsy. What was taking so long? What was so important that it couldn't wait? Why was the bureau treating him as a suspect rather than a surviving hero? He'd done nothing to deserve their mistrust. _He wouldn't talk to them initially, _she reminded herself. _But he couldn't. He had to protect himself. If I understand that, why can't they? Their inquisition could have waited. Why can't they just leave him to heal in peace? _She exhaled out a deep, disheartened breath. _I just want to be with him. He needs me, in spite of what he seems to think. He needs to be transferred as soon as possible, and perhaps I need to go above Hacker to assure that he gets proper rest without interruption. The group is dead. There's nothing now that can't wait until he has his wits about him again._

After four hours of impatiently waiting, she'd had enough. She stomped back into the ICU to his cubicle, ready to feed Hacker and the other agents a piece of her mind. Instead she happened in on a vacant room, with the exception of Booth who slept quietly. No one had bothered to fetch her once the questioning had ended. She felt her blood pressure rise as she was struck with a new stitch of anger. _They were swift about removing me but couldn't let me know they were finished. _She supposed she should have seen it coming, but it didn't soothe the stimulated beast throwing a tantrum inside.

Booth aroused easily when she tried waking him, though he could barely get his eyes open. The brown hue in them appeared darker than usual due to a glassy layer that had coated them, suggesting to her he'd taken a large dose of his pain medication. _They wouldn't have hurt him, would they? _No. Now she was entertaining imprudent fantasizes nowhere near rooted in reality. "Hi," she greeted him in a voice she would have used on Christine. "What happened?"

"…jus' wanted to talk to me."

"Yes, I know. But about what? I assume they wanted to know about your time in captivity. What did you tell them? What did they want to know?"

He averted away from her, avoiding the question. She wrinkled her nose in confusion. No. This wasn't right. Booth confided in her. He always did, to a fault. "Booth, what is it? What can't you tell me?"

He glanced down to the blanket covering his body. She tried to ignore the sharp sting of rejection she felt. "_Why _can't you tell me?" She had a hard time letting out her next question, for fear of the answer. "Don't you trust me?"

Still, chilly silence.

She tried to remain level headed, but felt ready to fall apart. "You don't trust me?"

"I can't trust anyone right now," he whispered. "I told you from the start I didn't want you in this."

"Yes, I know. But it's over now. They're dead, Booth. Every last one of them was killed in that bunker once the bomb was detonated and the fire started. Every member was accounted for by the fire department and the FBI. We're safe."

"I know."

She couldn't understand. "So you don't trust me?"

"You should have let me disappear, Bones. You never should have come with me."

"Those facts are irrelevant now!" She exclaimed. "It's a moot point. What's done has been done. Why are you bringing this up again? What did Hacker and those agents say to you?"

"…You should go back to the hotel."

This was unbelievable. "Not until you tell me what's wrong!"

He shut his eyes. His head tilted back into his pillow. For her it was the final straw. She tore away from him. "Fine. I will, since you obviously don't need me here. After all we've been through… after everything I've done for you, you still can't tell me what's going on. If there's a threat to us then I need to know about it!"

"There isn't."

"So then you're just being callous?" She blinked away tears of pain. He wasn't allowed to see her cry. "I'm going to go back to the hotel to spend some time with our daughter. When you feel as though I am no longer being a burden to you, let me know." She started for the entryway.

"Bones…"

Simply saying her name wasn't enough to make her stop. She stalked out, completely missing Booth's sorrowful expression of regret.


	18. Disappearing Acts

_"You should have let me disappear, Bones."_

One simple sentence had had the power to disable her. It had carried the strength to keep her up all throughout the night. The heated exchange was replayed in a monotonous loop. His words were placed under the scrutiny of a microscope, allowing her to analyze them in every different aspect. Were there hidden meanings in his words that had gone over her head? Or perhaps cryptic messages, meant for her to decipher? There was just no explaining the sudden shift of his attitude. It was true that since he'd woken he'd been rather mum. But she'd seen the warmth of love and gratitude shining within his eyes whenever he looked to her. That fire magnified when gazing at Christine. That was the man she knew; the man she expected. To have him abruptly revert back to his disdainful paranoia was mind boggling.

The silence began to get to her. Midway through the night she retreated from the bed. It was obvious she wasn't going to be able to get any sleep. Not with thoughts of Booth so heavily plaguing her mind. On the spot she decided a glass of cool ice water sounded delicious. Only she realized she'd been so emotional when dropping into bed she'd never filled the ice bucket. Annoyed, she snatched the bucket off the counter and left Christine tucked away sleeping sound in her bed. The ice machine was just down the hall. Should the baby wake while she was gone she'd still be near enough to hear her distress.

As she approached the machine she could hear a voice speaking. The tone was so low that she couldn't make out any of the words, nor the intent in their delivery. Immediately her guard rose. Chilling scenarios flashed before her eyes. She struggled to maintain a steady breathing pattern as she calmly depressed the button to distribute ice. The whirling of the machine concealed the din. She wasn't sure whether or not to feel relieved. Did she have a right to be suspicious?

The carpeting below her slippered feet shook with the vibration of footsteps. She was readying to engage in self defense when her father nearly slammed into her. "Tempe! He jumped back in surprise. "What are you doing out here? It's almost three in the morning!"

"What am I doing out here?" She retorted. "Why are you out here? And whom were you speaking to?"

His cheeks took on a light pinkish twinge. "I was calling a lady friend. I still love and miss your mother terribly. But I need companionship once in a while. Now what are you doing awake? And why are you getting ice?"

"I wanted a glass of cold water. I have found that I have been unable to sleep. I can't stop thinking."

"About Booth?" He predicted.

She lowered her head, but glanced up to him with guilty eyes. Once she'd arrived back at the hotel earlier that evening she'd relieved Max from babysitting duty without saying a word to him about her fight with Booth. Having it bottled up inside was showing itself to be toxic. "Come back to the room with me. I left Christine sleeping and I prefer not to leave her for too long, given our current circumstances."

"Uh oh. This sounds like it's going to be a long story. That can't be good."

The two journeyed back into her room. Brennan switched on the gentle glow of a lamp. Then after checking on Christine she poured both herself and Max a glass of ice water. The two sat at a small table and chairs that the room provided. Reluctantly she rehashed her entire visit with Booth, including how unexpectedly he'd changed after Hacker and his flunkies d been to see him. Max frowned and sipped thoughtfully from his glass. "Do you believe Hacker had something to do with his shift in attitude?"

"Yes. I do. I just don't know why. And I cannot believe after all we've been through together how he could suddenly not trust me. Perhaps Hacker said something to him about me. But I can't see what. I certainly have stayed out of harm's way."

"I don't honestly believe that he doesn't trust you."

"Then what is it? And why would he say such a thing?" Reflecting back, she realized he never officially had declared her untrustworthy. He just hadn't denied it, either.

Max swirled the ice around in his drink. "I obviously don't know Booth as well as you do. But I know from observing him for years that he rarely acts a certain way or says anything without a purpose or reason."

She shook her head vehemently. "What are you saying, dad?"

"Is it possible to believe that whatever is going on with him has nothing to do with trust? Do you think he wanted you to get mad at him?"

"But why? What would be his reasoning?"

"To keep you away. If you're angry with him, you're less likely to want to see him. You certainly wouldn't want to bring Christine around him."

Her eyes lit with understanding. "You're asserting that he's trying to get me to stay away from him. It's plausible. But I still don't understand why. I love him. He has no one else to take care of him, and he's far from being strong enough to care for himself. His x-rays…" She shuddered, recalling the pictures of his damaged body.

"I'm willing to bet something happened, or something was said that frightened him. Now he's doing his best to get you and Christine out of the way so you don't go down with him."

"So then he's trying to protect me. Protect us." She glanced to Christine. "But from what? The group destroyed themselves, so far as we know. What's left to be afraid of?"

"I wish I knew, Tempe. But we both know Booth isn't a man who gets intimidated easily."

Thoughts and fears were bouncing around her brain like a ball in a pinball machine. She could hardly keep them straight. "I have to go back to the hospital in the morning. I have to talk to him, and get him to talk to me."

"I'm not sure that's what he wants-"

"I don't care anymore. I don't give a damn as to what he wants or thinks he needs. He's not going through this alone. I've let him go one too many times lately, and while he always returns he's been broken almost to the point of no return. If his life is still in danger then I need to know about it. I won't let him go, dad. I refuse."

Max smiled faintly. "'Atta girl."

* * *

Her midnight confession with Max freed enough of the burdensome weight crushing her chest to allow her to get a few hours rest. She woke with Christine at the crack of dawn. She fed her before placing her down in a makeshift playpen she'd purchased on the fly at a local toy store. Then she hit the shower to both blast away her aches and pains and get her energized for the day. She was determined. No matter what it took she'd force Booth to talk to her. From all the interrogations she'd sat in on with him, she'd observed a thing or to as to how to get the unwilling to confess. Booth would probably be able to see through her tactics. But for his sake, and the sake of their relationship, she had to try. Never in her life had she trusted gut feelings. But something lingering in the back of her mind kept insisting he was in danger; the kind of trouble that resulted in fatality.

She was just stepping out of the shower when she heard the rotary tone of her cell going off. A towel was wrapped tightly around her before she jogged back out into her room and snatched the device up from where she'd left it on the table at her bedside. "Brennan," she answered without looking at the caller ID. She was so muddled that it never occurred to her to wonder who could be calling at such an hour.

The voice on the line had her inhaling sharply. She should have known. "Andrew," she greeted curtly.

"I'm sorry to be calling you so early, but I have to ask. Is Agent Booth with you?"

_We've had this conversation before. I wouldn't tell you then. What makes you think I'll tell you now? _"No. I just got out of the shower, actually." She winced. The _last _thing she wanted was for Hacker to think of her wet and naked. Only Booth was permitted to have such thoughts.

"Okay. Well, if you hear from him-"

"Why would I hear from him?" Her heart skipped a beat in panic. "Isn't he at the hospital?"

"No. I'm afraid not. He disappeared overnight."

"What?! No! That isn't possible. He isn't strong enough… he can't half hardly walk! He was abducted. You need to-"

"No, Temperance. He wasn't. Security found him on camera slipping out a little after two this morning. The agents who were supposed to be guarding him had gone for coffee-"

Everything about this conversation was unsettling. "Why would agents be monitoring him?"

"Because today we were arranging for his detaining-"

"Again I repeat, he can't half hardly walk. He's not well enough to be confined to a jail cell. On what grounds would you be detaining him? He's done nothing wrong. He's a hero. He's-"

"Withholding information regarding the whereabouts of his brother. Jared Booth is considered a fugitive for his involvement with the group. We have intel that Agent Booth knows where he is, but he refuses to-"

"You can't honestly expect him to give up his own brother!"

"It's an unfortunate situation, I know. And I understand that they're family. But he has a duty to his job and his nation-"

"Both of which he's served! He almost died, Andrew. Twice! He doesn't deserve this witch hunt."

Hacker didn't sound the leas bit apologetic. "That's just the way it is, Tempe. But if you hear from him-"

She hung up and resisted the urge to fling her phone across the room. Her shoulders shook with intense fear and sorrow she was doing her best to deny. If she had to guess Booth had gone after Jared. That left her only one option. "You're going to be spending more time with grandpa," she told Christine. "Because I'm going to find daddy."


	19. Save Ourselves

The question was: how was she to locate Booth? She highly doubted he'd left her any kind of bread crumb trail of clues. Judging by his previous behavior he'd been dead set on removing his family from his life for the immediate future. She knew he was thinking of their welfare alone. But the rejection still stung like a hornet. No matter what the circumstances, there was absolutely nothing that could deter her away from being at his side. Through the good times and the bad they were partners first and foremost.

However, what really grated her nerves was the condition he'd been in when he'd disappeared. How he'd gotten out of the hospital on his own was mind boggling enough. Did he honestly think he could travel miles without any kind of assistance? When she did locate him (and she would) she dreaded seeing the latest damage his antics had inflicted upon himself.

She didn't entirely blame him for his course of action. Had she been confronted with a similar situation she knew she would have done the same thing. He'd done what he'd felt was necessary. But that didn't make the bitter pill of doubt any easier to swallow. That didn't ease the aching within her heart.

It may have been early in the morning, but she began packing right away. She carted Christine to her father's hotel room and gave a quick run down of the situation. Max was in shock. "I knew Hacker had something to do with it."

"I'm livid." She admitted. "How could they expect him to turn in Jared? I know their relationship is tremulous at the best of times, but he's still family. I don't believe Booth thought he had any other choice than to leave."

Max nodded. "What are you going to do when you find him? You can't be fugitives forever. That's not a lifestyle for either one of you. You don't have those kind of skills to survive."

A plan had already formulated in her mind. "I'm going to convince Jared to turn himself in."

"Tempe… I wouldn't get your hopes up."

"I have to try." She knew her father was right. The two of them would never be able to suffice with a life constantly on the run. It didn't suit either one of them. They investigated murders. Being vigilante crime fighters didn't interest her. They weren't superheroes.

Outside she flung her bag into the trunk. She lowered herself behind the wheel and pondered her next move. Where would Booth go? He'd try to stay off the radar. He definitely would try to avoid any route in which he believed she might find him. Then again, depending on Jared's whereabouts, he may not have had a choice. _But where would Jared be? Would he have gone north? East? West, out to California? Would he have headed for Canada or Mexico? _There was just no telling. Her plan had a major flaw.

She'd been sitting for a while when her phone suddenly beeped, indicating the alert of a incoming text message. She yanked it out of her pocket and glanced at the display. A blocked caller had sent her a series of two digit numbers. The pattern was random; nonsensical. Still her brain tried to make sense of it. _Where did this come from? If it's blocked… is it Booth? What is he trying to tell me? _Her eyes nearly burned holes in the screen. Out of the blue it hit her. _Coordinates. They're coordinates. He's telling me where he is. _But… why? If he hadn't wanted her to follow then why would he reveal to her his location?

She didn't give herself time to analyze it. From the backseat she snatched her laptop, and searched for the area the numbers provided. He hadn't gone too far. Albuquerque had been fled for a town called Las Cruces, which was near the Mexico border. She threw her car into drive and sped off into the rising sun.

By noon she had reached her destination. She wound through city traffic and found herself grateful that the university the town housed wasn't in session. Even light traffic was more of an irritant than it should have been. All she wanted was to see Booth. To assure herself of his health. To ease her troubled mind. And then to yell at him with all the anger that had been built up over being left behind. By the time she got done with him he'd regret ever making the decision, if he didn't already.

The directions led her straight to a run down motel that appeared as though it hadn't been updated since the seventies. It made sense for them to stay in such a place, away from prying eyes. They were likely a "don't ask, don't tell" facility, in which money was accepted for a room to stay with no questions asked as to what the room was to be used for, whether it was drugs or prostitution. _This isn't for you, Booth. _She thought sadly as she pulled into a space. _This shouldn't have happened to either one of us._

Out in plain sight Jared was leaning against the side of the building smoking a cigarette. With him in her crosshairs she stalked from the car, barely remembering to rip the keys from the ignition as she went. "WHERE IS HE?" Her voice rivaled that of the Hulk's.

Jared took a step back. "Easy, Tempe."

"This is all your fault! All of it!"

"Yeah, you've said that before."

She wanted to smack the smug look off his face. "He's protecting you, and he has no reason to. Now where is he?"

Jared hesitated. She inhaled a deep breath to calm herself down. "You smoke?" The question she couldn't have cared if he answered. But she was hoping to distract him.

"Sometimes. It calms my nerves. Look, he didn't want you coming after him."

"I am aware. His actions made his desires loud and clear. Which is why I am confused as to why he sent me the coordinates that brought me here."

"He didn't. I did, from a disposable phone." He exhaled out a trace of smoke. "He's bad, Tempe. And he won't go to the hospital."

Her heart dropped into her stomach. "Bad… how?"

"Go take a look for yourself. He's in there." He jabbed his thumb at a door just next to him.

She couldn't resist giving him a hard shove as she entered. The room was dark, and the air smelled of filthy, wet carpet. "Booth?" She questioned reluctantly. Almost instantly upon saying his name she heard the sound of heavy breathing. She took one single step at a time, afraid of what she would come across.

His dazed voice shattered the silence. "Not… not supposed to… you weren't…"

She rushed in his direction. Along the wall she blindly felt for a lamp or light switch. Once she located the hard grooved knob of a lamp switch she turned it on. What awaited her in the light stopped her heart. Besides her Booth lay sprawled out on top of a king sized bed. His shirt was off, revealing all the bruises and lacerations that had been hidden before. His skin was glistening with a copious amount of sweat. Harshly he struggled for every inhalation he took. Realizing there was no use in resisting anymore, he muttered tiredly, "I'm sorry."

The hostility inside her evaporated. She laid her hands on his chest to feel how much heat his body was exerting. "You're sick. You shouldn't have attempted to-"

"Not sick. In pain." He winced his eyes shut. "My leg. It's bad."

Her eyes dropped down below his waist. The leg in which he was referring to was the one in which he'd suffered the broken ankle. The skin was stretched beyond it's limit with an excessive amount of swelling. The bruising there had turned nearly black in color. Running her finger over it had him shying away from her in pain. She frowned. "Where's your cast?"

"Jared cut it off. It was too tight."

Her stomach was twisting in knots. "How long has this been going on?"

He didn't answer. His inability to focus was worsening. She touched his cheek to draw his attention. "You need to go back to the hospital."

"I can't. Can't let anyone know…" His eyes fluttered.

"You're having a medical emergency. The trip here hastened your injury, and I feel comfortable in diagnosing you with compartment syndrome. You're already in dire pain. If we don't do something you could go into shock. Your heart will stop."

"Can't." He repeated. "Can't you…?" _treat me?_

She breathed in sharply. "Booth, treatment involves making an incision deep into your leg. I'd have to do it to you without anesthesia. The process itself is very painful."

"Have you done it before?"

"Well, yes actually." She winced. Years ago when she and Hodgins had been abducted by the Gravedigger he too, had had compartment syndrome from a broken leg. She'd been able to operate enough to save his life until help arrived. But it wasn't an experience she was seeking to repeat. "But-"

"Just do it." He begged. "The pain can't be worse than this."

_Oh yes, it can. _She sighed wearily. "All right. Just try and rest. I'll gather the tools I need."

Obtaining said tools was a difficulty she hadn't anticipated. Outside she sought out Jared. "I need a sharp knife."

He raised an eyebrow, but didn't question her. From his pocket he removed a Swiss Army knife. She accepted it. "You need to make some calls and get him some painkillers."

"I don't think I can-"

"You were involved in a group that practiced in illegal activities and crimes against America. I'm sure you can find a way to illegally get your own brother something to relieve his pain." She barked back.

Back inside she tended to Booth as swiftly as she could. She sterilized the equipment, and kept both towels and hot water nearby. Every time she checked on his state she could easily discern that he was fading into delirium. If she didn't act soon he wouldn't remain conscious for all that much longer. "Okay. You're sure this is what you want?" There was a tremble in her voice. She hadn't been comfortable working on Hodgins. Performing the same painful procedure on someone she loved so much was unthinkable. _I wish I could change your mind._

Disappointingly, he nodded. She exhaled to steady herself. "All right. Just… squeeze the blanket when it gets to be too much."

With the skill of a trained surgeon she tried to operate as fast as she could. Booth's entire body turned into a boulder. The blanket nearly ripped in his hands from his tight hold. His breathing grew to be much more ragged. He didn't scream or make a single noise of anguish, but she knew how badly he was hurting. His jaw clenched. He turned his blanched face sideways into his pillow. "Jared better come through on those pills for you," she murmured.

Before all was said and done he passed out cold. She dressed the wound she'd made as best she could. He still desperately needed the care of a physician. But the temporary care would be enough for the short term.

Once she tidied up she climbed into bed with him and pulled his upper torso into her arms. She kissed him, and held onto him as though if she let go he'd be lost to her forever. Over the hours as they passed he began to breathe a bit easier, though still not well due to the damage in his lungs caused by the fire and smoke. The sweat dissipated. The rigidity in his muscles eased and he sank into her. The threat had been defeated. But she still was afraid to loosen her embrace.

When he at last regained consciousness night had set onto the world. He didn't stray from her arms, but asked in a voice no louder than a whisper, "how long have I been out?"

"Hours. Do you remember anything of what happened to you?"

"I remember everything." He confirmed. His tongue slid across his dry lips. "Sorry I ditched you."

"I understand why you behaved as though you did. I must admit though, it still hurt. But I understand that you wanted to find Jared, and you didn't want me involved."

"I was afraid you'd try to stop me from leaving. And if I couldn't get out… I didn't want you having to see me get cuffed. Not like they could take me far," he smirked. "I trust you, Bones. I trust you with everything."

She kissed his forehead. "I know. I'm just worried about you."

"I can't take much more." He admitted. "My body… I can't. I need some time to rest and recover. Getting down here took more out of me than I thought it would. I never thought that syndrome or whatever the hell you said it was would happen to my ankle."

"Yes. We need to get that wound tended to."

"I know. But I haven't made a plan beyond this. I don't know where to go from here."

"I do. I am going to get Jared to turn himself in." She could feel his pulse spike. "It's the only way, Booth."

He closed his eyes again. She clung to him, if possible, tighter. "It's the only way to save ourselves."


	20. Delaying The Inevitable

Throughout the night Booth's condition deteriorated. Though Jared came through with a hefty amount of Vicodin, it did little to ease his suffering. By morning his pulse rate had lowered dangerously. His already strained breaths were ill timed and spaced too far apart. His skin was snowy white with a chill. Whenever she tried to wake him he would stir, but it wouldn't be long until he fell back under into a stupor. His eyes never opened, nor was he coherent. She knew the amateur surgery she'd performed on his leg had been no more than a short term deterrent from death. Just as she knew now that his time was running short. He required real care in a medical facility. Putting it off any longer would be the difference between life and death.

Around dawn she separated herself from him. The loss of her body heat immediately sent a shiver down his spine. She wrapped him up as best she could in all the blankets the hotel had provided them. Then she affectionately kissed his cool lips. "Just hold on," she begged him in a whisper. "I'm going to get you help."

Jared had fallen asleep in a chair by the door. She jabbed her finger into his shoulder, and motioned for him to follow her outside. By his arm she marched him across the parking lot away from the hotel so as not to disturb Booth or any other guests. She had to imagine this conversation wasn't going to go over well. Or quietly. "Jared, he needs help. He's getting weaker."

"I thought you fixed him."

She sneered. _He isn't a car. _"He was suffering from compartment syndrome. I did my best to ease the pressure in his leg to keep him from going into shock, but other than dressing the wound I had no means of sewing it up. I'm sure he's losing blood. It's irrelevant, anyway. He was gravely injured long before he made the trip down here. He almost died from internal bleeding. He was in a coma for days! He's strong, but his body can't sustain this amount of strain and trauma that's being placed upon it. Too much has physically happened to him in too short of a period of time."

Jared wasn't moved. "All right. So what do you want me to do about it?"

She sucked in a deep breath to try to help keep her temper in check. Under other circumstances she was as cool as a cucumber no matter how tight the situation. Only Booth could spin her out of control in a split second. "He can't go to the hospital because of you. The bureau will be waiting for him. You have to turn yourself in to make it safe for him."

"What? No. I'm not doing that. You know what they'll do to me, Tempe? I'll go to jail for years."

"You should have thought about that." She snapped back. "Before you ever became entrapped in this group. Don't punish Booth for your mistakes. Isn't time in incarceration worth it to save his life?"

Jared jeered. "He won't die. You're being dramatic. I've seen him come back from worse."

"Really? When? When he took a beating from your father to protect you? I can assure you he will die. He _is _dying. And you are the only one who can save him now." She sighed. "Jared, please. Just turn yourself in. You had an exemplary military record. I would imagine there's a good possibility they wouldn't punish you too severely." Actually, she had no idea about these matters. But whatever she could say to sweet talk Jared into taking responsibility for his actions, she would.

Yet nothing would sway his mind. Quietly he whispered, "I'm sorry, Tempe. But I can't. And I think you're wrong. I think with some proper rest he'll be fine."

Tears of aggravation filled her eyes. "Then you just gave him a death sentence. If there's a hell, there's a special place reserved for you in it."

Back inside the room Booth was exactly how she'd left him. She drew him into her arms and cradled him close. She was struck by the sudden heat within his body. Then again, she'd provided him with plenty of covers. "I may have to take you to the hospital anyway," she told him softly. "Jared won't agree to any terms that might save your life. And I can't sit idly by and watch you die. I won't let you. You aren't allowed, do you hear me? You have to live for Christine, and for me. We're a family, and we wouldn't be without you."

He gave her no corresponding response. He continued to lay motionless in her embrace, struggling for each and every breath. There was just no denying that he was getting worse. _How could Jared be so foolish as to believe he could surpass this amount of trauma? Does he have no grasp as to what Booth has been through? _Maybe. But it was more so that he simply didn't care. Jared put himself first. From what she understood that was the way it had always been, and the way it always would be.

It occurred to her sometime later that he felt much warmer than he had. She swept a palm across his forehead to find his skin was beaded in sweat. He'd gone from being cool to burning up in no more than twenty minutes. She was unsure as to what it meant, but had to believe that it didn't spell well for him. She pressed her fingers against his neck to measure his pulse. Though weak it was rapid. "Oh, no." It dawned on her. "We've waited too long. You're going into shock."

She tore out of bed and stopped dead. What was she supposed to do? Calling for paramedics wasn't ideal. Her best bet was to drive him to the hospital herself. But how was she to get him on his feet? It wasn't that long of a walk to the car, but for him the path could be likened to a thousand miles. And that was assuming she could get him moving. Still, she had to try. She pressed a knee down into the mattress and knelt over him. "Booth? Booth, I need you to get up. You have to get up. We have to go to the hospital. You're in shock. I think you've lost a lot of blood. We have to go."

He didn't so much as crack an eye open. She placed her hands upon his chest and shook him hard enough to rattle his teeth. "Booth! C'mon, Booth! Get up! You're going to die here if you don't!" She just couldn't revive him. In a tear strained whisper she pleaded, "Booth, please. Wake up."

She'd been so involved in Booth that she'd never heard Jared rejoin them. "What's going on?"

"He's suffering from the effects of shock." She could hardly maintain a level voice. "He's faltering. I have to take him to the hospital."

"Tempe, you take him and you'll be arrested for harboring a fugitive."

The razor thin strand bundling her anger together severed. She let out a mighty cry of irritation and shoved him back against the wall. "He's DYING. Do you understand that? I am wasting my time with you! If you're not willing to help then get the hell out!"

Jared blinked, frightened by her outburst. In a low voice he questioned, "what do you need?"

"I can't get him up. I have to get him to the car."

"Then lets just carry him."

The strength between the two of them was enough to maneuver Booth onto his feet. He was dead weight; an awkward bag of sand. No amount of jostling was enough to induce him out of his comatose like state. Only his frantic breathing gave any indication as to whether or not he was alive. Brennan could discern that Jared was at last beginning to comprehend the danger his brother was in.

They carried him outside to Brennan's car and buckled him into the passenger seat. For the briefest of moments did his eyes open a hair. The two saw his sight raise to theirs before he let out a weak groan and faded again. Brennan's heart jumped into overdrive. "I have to go." She ran to the driver's side door.

"Just be careful, Tempe."

_What do you care? _She wanted to shoot back. Instead she nodded politely and slid behind the wheel. "Hold on, Booth. I'm not going to let you go."


	21. Stay Strong

Brennan's mind was awash of thoughts as she drove through the New Mexico deserts at speeds exceeding the limit of what was considered safe. She'd come to learn that the closest hospital was located near twenty miles away. Considering his state she'd been horrified to learn the distance that sat between them and medical attention. To both see and hear Booth struggling for his life besides her crushed her heart, and filled her to the brim with immense guilt. No matter what the consequences she should have sought out help for him sooner rather than later. Why had she believed that Jared would turn himself in? Or that she could treat Booth until he did? Caring for his needs was one thing. But trying to play doctor was a different matter entirely. Having a somewhat adequate medical background didn't qualify her to administer treatment to someone was injured as he was.

_He isn't going to make it. _She fought the urge to cry. Practically down to the floor did she jam the accelerator. _No. I won't let him. I'll get him there. But then what? No doubt he'll be admitted. I'm sure the hospital will alert the FBI. We have to remain off the grid until we can summon a new plan. _But what were their options? Suddenly she recalled what Jared had said to her. _I suppose once his whereabouts are revealed agents will arrest me on site just for being in his presence. This is all so preposterous. I have to protect him. But what use will I be to him if I am hauled off to jail? There must be some solution to all this beyond Jared. _

Her thoughts were broken by Booth's weakened whispering besides her. Though she could only hear fragments she recognized enough to know he was repeating the foreign phrase that the group had beat into his head. She gasped half a breath. "No, Booth. Stop. You're safe with me, remember? We're on our way to the hospital. I'm going to see to it that you receive treatment. I just need you to hold on. We're almost there."

Since taking to the road his condition had only worsened in its severity. His entire body had become involved in his labored attempts at breathing. His sides contracted. Various muscles twitched. His lips had begun to take on a violet hue, informing her that he still wasn't getting adequate oxygen no matter how hard he tried. She happened to glance in his direction just in time to see his eyes open. He held her gaze for a mere moment before he winced his eyes shut again. His muscles stiffened. His spine elongated as he sat up higher in his seat.

Having her focus solely on him had her nearly missing the sound of her jingling cell phone. She thought better than to answer it. Yet whenever the caller reached her voice mail, they would end the call only to call again right away. At last she reached behind her to fish through her purse for her phone. Amazingly her eyes never left the road. When finally her fingertips brushed against the rectangular device she yanked it out and answered. "Brennan." The irritation in her voice was thick.

"Tempe, sweetie. You gotta get somewhere safe. You gotta get out of sight immediately."

It was rare she heard such panic in her father's voice. "What? Why?"

"Someone is tailing me and Christine. We're in the car. I'm leading them away. But this has to mean-"

Her blood ran cold. "That members of the group are still alive. And they are on the hunt for Booth and Jared."

"It also means they know who you are. They've gotten access to all of his information. You're in danger." He paused. "You sound like you're already in the car. Where are you?"

"After Booth went missing I tracked the two of them down to Las Cruces. But Booth is… he's…" Anxiety produced tears and closed off her throat. "He's so hurt, dad. He shouldn't have tried to go off on his own. I tried to provide first aid to his injuries, but by this morning he'd only gotten worse. He's gone into shock. I'm taking him to the hospital. There's no avoiding it. He'll die without medical intervention."

"But won't that bastard Hacker arrest the two of you?"

"I suppose so, but I haven't been able to procure another plan." And she needed to. Rapidly were they approaching their destination.

"I have one. But you aren't going to like it. You're going to have to separate yourself from Booth."

She inhaled sharply. "What? You must be joking."

"You're going to drop him off at the hospital anonymously. Don't tell them your name, or his. Say he's a drifter you found on the side of the road-"

Tears were already spilling down her cheeks. "Dad-"

"Then call me. We'll agree on a location and meet up."

"No. No! I can't leave him!" _I can't not know how he is, or whether he's survived his injuries or not. _

"Tempe, if you love him and this baby I have in the backseat here, you will. It's your only choice. It's not forever, sweetie. It's just until we can shake this group. And I promise you, we will. But right now this is the only way I can keep all of us, including him, safe. Is he lucid? Can you speak to him? Tell him the plan?"

Booth had passed out cold. She inhaled deeply, trying to turn herself into cold, hard metal. "No. He's… I don't know if he's going to survive this."

Max was sympathetic. "It's the only way, sweetie. I'm sorry. I know what this is going to do to you."

_No, you don't. _She thought with disgust. The call ended. Her grief was becoming harder and harder to contain. _I can't do this. How can dad expect me to do this? I can't just abandon him. He'll wake up, and see I'm not there. He'll be hurt. He'll be devastated. _Another thought occurred to her, one that melted her resolve. _Or what if he doesn't wake up at all? What if I have to live my life unaware of what's happened to him? What if Christine never knows her father? _She looked to his limp form again. _But what if the group hunts and kills us all? _"I have to separate us for a while," she burst out into the silence. "I detest it. I can't stand the thought of being away from you. But the group is after us. _All _of us. You can't possibly go on the run, Booth. And you don't have the strength to fight. You can't even protect yourself right now. That's why for your sake I have to do this. But I'm coming back for you. Just as soon as I am able I will find you, and we'll all be together again. I love you, and I'm so sorry that I don't have another answer."

He was too still. Sporadically he'd inhale the smallest of breaths, which was only determinable by his slight chest movement. She shook her head. "I'm so sorry."

The hospital came into view. She wound around the parking lot to the emergency room entrance. Paramedics waited just inside the front doors ready to assist anyone whom happened to show up needing help. Before Brennan could give him away she kissed his cool lips one last time. "I'm coming back for you," she whispered in his ear. "Just stay strong." Then she took the final plunge by pulling the car forward into the technicians' line of view. She hopped out and flagged them down with her hands. The story her father had suggested poured out. "I found this man laying by the side of the road! He's gravely injured! He's having a hard time breathing."

A stretcher was brought down to them immediately. Booth was eased onto the top of it and covered with a blanket. Two of the men rushed him inside while a third remained behind to gather information. "You just helped a man lying on the side of the road?" He asked skeptically. "So then you don't know who he is."

"No. Not at all." Her voice sounded braver than she felt.

"All right. How about you? What's your name?"

She thought on her toes. "I prefer not to leave my car idling. Allow me to park it, and I will come back and answer any questions you may have." She tumbled back inside and slammed the door shut before he could inquire any further. Then she drove away without looking back. So hard did she cry that she had trouble seeing the road in front of her. _I'm so sorry, Booth. Please forgive me. _She mentally begged. _As soon as it's safe I will be back._

But she worried over how long it would take, and what was to become of him in the meantime. All she had were her trust and faith in him. Hopefully it would pull them through.


	22. Oust

"Male. Age and identity unknown. He's got no ID. Found unconscious on the side of the road. Good Samaritan brought him in but disappeared before questioning. Initial examination reports trauma to the upper torso and head. Deep contusion to the left ankle running up the calf muscle that has caused a significant amount of blood loss. Patient has yet to regain consciousness. Pupils are blown. Temperature has remained steady at one hundred and three. Breath sounds are weak. Pulse is 35 bpm. BP is 160 over 98."

"Hmm. Hit by a car, maybe? Sir? Are you with us? Can you hear me? Do you know where you are?"

"Lets get him to Radiology right away and get some pictures on him so we can get a better idea of what we're dealing with." Pause. "What happened to you, buddy?"

…

"Hey. Whoa. Something's happening here. Pulse is increasing rapidly. BP is rising, as well. He-"

Groan.

"Oh, God. Hold him down and call a code!"

* * *

That night Brennan sat stoic in yet another hotel room. She had seated herself as close as she could to the window so as to allow herself to look out at the stars in peace. Right there in that moment she wanted nothing more but to avoid all social interaction. Her entire day had been spent behind the wheel out running invisible phantoms. She'd done her best not to think about Booth, but doing so was like trying not to breathe. Impossible. Every hour she found more self hatred for abandoning him. What was he to think when he woke up alone? In his state would he realize the sacrifice she'd had to make? Would he be able to appreciate it? Forgive her? It didn't seem likely, seeing as she hardly could pardon herself for her actions.

"Tempe," Max scolded kindly. "You've been sitting by that window for hours. We should be doing our best _not_ to draw attention to ourselves right now."

She couldn't stop herself from glaring venomously at him. The two had met up at the Colorado border and decided to settle there for the evening. They'd gotten a single room, though Brennan would have much rather had her own to allow herself some privacy. Her life was in Max's hands, and she was resentful and defiant. "I don't see how I am drawing attention to myself."

He exhaled. The bite in her tone was hard to miss. "I know you're angry at me, sweetie. And I'm sorry. But I'm sure Booth is going to be fine. He's a grown man. He can take care of himself."

She shook her head furiously. "He was in shock, dad. He was dying. And I just left him." She scrubbed at a tear that tried to fall down her cheek. "I turned my back on him and left."

"You did what you had to do. I know it's difficult. I had to leave someone I loved once, too."

She hopped up from her chair so fast it fell over. "I don't want to hear that! Not now! It was your fault you left me all those years ago, and it's your fault I had to leave him now!"

Max wasn't impressed by her anger. "You know I had nothing to do with this. You just need someone to blame. I understand that. Go ahead. It _is _all my fault."

His pitying tone was patronizing. It only served to fuel the flames of her anger. She wanted to scream in irritation. Instead she stormed out without offering him another word. She slammed her way through the parking lot, not stopping until she'd fallen behind the wheel of her car. _This is ludicrous, _she seethed with tears blurring her vision. _I should be with him. Christine would be perfectly safe with dad. Booth is completely defenseless. He wasn't conscious. He has no idea as to what is happening. Someone should be with him. I should drive back and find him. We need to be together. _

Her eyes fell down onto the seat he'd been in hours earlier. For the first time she noticed a splotch of blood on the console where his leg had been resting. There was another on the arm rest separating the two seats, and yet another on the seat itself. _It's all his blood. _The thought broke apart the dam. She cried real, gut wrenching sobs that were very uncharacteristic for her. Booth was the only one whom ever could lower her guard. She could never hide behind mirrors from him, even when he wasn't around. _He can't die. I have to go back for him. I can't do this. I have to go back. _Her hand trembled as she started the car. _Booth, please just hold on._

* * *

"Hi, yes. My name is Dr. Anthony. I'm calling because I had a patient arrive in my clinic very sick. Nearly comatose. I sent him off to the hospital, but I can't figure out which hospital he was admitted to."

"Sir, I'm not authorized to give out information-"

"I'm just looking to see if Seeley Booth was admitted to your facility."

"I'm sorry. There's no one by that name."

"Oh. Hmm. Any John Does?"

"…There's been several tonight, sir. I'm sorry. I can't help you."

"Heh. You already did."

* * *

Brennan didn't stop driving until she was easing her car back into the parking lot of the hospital she'd dropped Booth off at numerous hours ago. Her body ached from being forced into one single position for such an extended period of time. Her eyes felt as parched as the deserts she'd driven through. Yet none of it was enough to stop her. Whatever ailment she was experiencing paled in comparison to what Booth was going through. She wouldn't be satisfied until she was back within his presence; until she was assured of his health. Not until she could physically gather him in her arms and relieve him with the type of touch and comfort only lovers could provide. Leaving him was a mistake she wouldn't be repeating.

Until she reached the information desk inside the hospital she hadn't realized what trickery lay ahead of her to obtain information. Booth had been stripped of all of his identification before she'd allowed him to be taken for treatment. As a result she had to assume that he was still listed as a "John Doe." How would anyone know whom she was requesting information on? And how was she to keep from identifying herself? Although by now she felt it to be a moot point. What mattered to her was Booth's well being. She'd serve a lifetime sentence behind bars if it meant knowing he was safe from harm.

"Can I help you?" A nurse behind the desk questioned.

Brennan chose to stick to her story. "I dropped off a man yesterday that I had found by the side of the road. I was passing back through town, and I just wanted to see how he was fairing. I thought perhaps if he was awake we could speak. I am very curious as to why he would have been laying beside the road, in the condition that he was in. Perhaps he was drunk-"

The woman's dulled eyes and slacked jaw didn't change. "So you don't know his name?"

"No."

She hammered a few keys on her keyboard before eyeing the screen. "Most of the John Does we've had admitted have been identified or moved on to the coroner."

Her stomach dropped. _Coroner?_

"We have one listed as being in critical condition in the ICU. But I can't just let you in there."

Brennan tried to wrangle in her patience. "And why not? I just explained-"

She didn't respond, but rather paged a doctor. Shortly after the phone sitting before her rang. Brennan continued to watch on in agitation as her story was relayed. When she hung up she waved her back with a flick of her fingers. "Go to the ICU and ask for Dr. Pagoda."

She did as ordered without another word. The doctor was waiting for her when she was granted access. "You're the woman who dropped him off, is that correct? I remember the medics saying something about you when he was brought in for treatment. You never came back so the police could question you."

Afraid she was getting low on her luck, she was delicate in her strategy to proceed. "Yes. I unfortunately at the time could not stay. But I am on my way out of town now and really wanted to see him. It's not often that one finds a live person lying on the side of the road."

Dr. Pagoda smirked. "That's true. I wish I had better news for you. He's been comatose since he arrived. During his initial examination he had a seizure that stopped his heart. Reviving him was difficult, but we managed it. All the injuries on his body suggest to me that he was struck by an automobile. Except-"

She felt ready to be sick. "Except what?"

"It appeared as though someone tried to perform surgery on his leg. And some of his other injuries have already begun trying to mend themselves. I wish he would waken, because I also, would like to know what happened to him."

_Too much for him to have to had suffer through. _"I'd like to see him, please." She saw him hesitate. "I will give a statement to the police directly there after."

That appeased him. "Right this way."

She was led to a room shaped like a horseshoe. A hub where doctors and nurses worked sat square in the middle. All around them were cubicles with curtains concealing the entryways. One in particular stood out to her, as the divider had been pushed back and a nurse was standing over a being who wasn't moving.

"He's in there," Dr. Pagoda confirmed. "I can allow you no more than five minutes."

She'd take whatever she could get. With a nod she politely waited until the nurse had finished. Then she hurried to his bedside. "Booth?"

His physical appearance didn't appear any better than it had the last time she'd seen him. The difference now being the variety of machines hooked up to his frail body. A breathing tube had been inserted into his mouth down through his throat. It made her sick to realize that a single machine was likely the only reason he was still able to breathe. "I waited too long to get you help," she whispered. "And I never should have left you. I'm so sorry, Booth. I just don't know how to get us out of this." She'd pinned too much of her hope on Jared. She brought his hand into hers and squeezed it desperately.

A sudden commotion in the hospital proper drew her attention. The sound of a gun discharging a round echoed off the walls. Screams of terror followed. The electricity dimmed. A voice shouted gleefully, "none of y'all are leaving here alive until we get what we want!"

She gasped a breath. "I think they found us."


End file.
